


Angel I thru VI

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A scene that *might* have happened during *Ascention*.





	Angel I thru VI

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Angel by Sugar Rush

The characters contained in this story are not my property -- they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Twentieth-Century Fox Broadcasting. Even so -- I'm dead broke, so don't sue me, guys...  
It's my first dip into the slashy end of the pool, so be gentle. Don't expect this to fit anywhere in the "Duane Barry/Ascension" timeline established in the show, just accept it for what it is -- an excuse for totally gratuitous comfort sex between our two favorite gorgeous guys. All feedback is welcome -- just post it to the M/K list...  
I suppose I have three people to thank for this -- Cody for giving me an image I couldn't get out of my mind, Sarah McLachlan for the perfect song to go along with that image, and Leigh for corrupting a previously unsuspecting shipper. Thanks...I think...  
Song lyrics from "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan...

* * *

ANGEL  
A scene that *might have happened* during "Ascension"  
by Sugar Rush 

She was gone, and his whole world had crashed, burned, dissolved into a heap of cold gray ash.

Slouched forward on the couch, elbows propped on knees, mouth pressed to steepled fingers, he stared at thinning threads of sunlight playing on the far wall, not moving, scarcely breathing. His eyes felt like two burned holes in a blanket, but he didn't bother stretching out, trying to rest. Skinner'd ordered him home for exactly that reason, but he wouldn't, couldn't, not until they found her...

He was to blame, that he knew beyond question, beyond doubt. If he hadn't given her that implant, Duane Barry would never have been able to find her. If that fucking psycho hurt her--

If she ended up dead--

It was on him. All on him--

The sudden knock on the front door sailed through his head like a bullet, intensifying the sharp throbbing over his left eye. He didn't want to get up. Maybe if he just sat quietly, whoever it was would finally give up and go away--

"Hey, Mulder, open up. It's me."

Krycek. God, he couldn't think of anybody he wanted to see less. The guy'd been stuck to him like a sweaty t-shirt ever since they'd started working together; hell, if he'd had a tail, he probably would've wagged it every time Mulder walked in the room. It was flattering in a way, he supposed, but mostly what he felt was embarrassed -- weirdly enough, more for Krycek than himself. Didn't he realize how obvious he was being?

"C'mon, Mulder, I know you're in there. I saw your car parked down in the garage."

He groaned, hanging his head.

"I've got news about Scully."

And he was off the couch and at the door in five seconds flat, wrenching the knob so viciously the brass burned his palm--

But the question burning in his throat stopped there, frozen solid by the sight of Krycek standing in the hallway, dressed in jeans, plain gray t-shirt, black leather jacket. It was the first time Mulder'd ever seen him in anything but a bad suit.

Momentary dizziness rippled through him, his mouth going dry. Jesus, all this worry about Scully was starting to make him physically sick...

"You gonna make me stand out here all night?" Krycek asked.

He stepped back to let Alex in, shutting the door behind him. "What is it?"

No answer other than a shrug.

"They found her yet?"

"I lied about that. There's no news."

"Then why the hell did--"

"Got you to open the door, didn't it?" He lifted one hand before Mulder could snap back his reply, waggling a grease-stained paper bag. "Leftover Chinese from lunch. Thought you might want to help me finish it." His stunned incredulity must've shown in his expression, for Krycek added, "c'mon, you didn't eat anything that I could see all day today or yesterday. You got me worried."

His anger fizzled, dissipated by the genuine concern apparent in Krycek's stance, in his deep green eyes. His partner had come to offer what moral support he could in a difficult time, and he'd been just about ready to throw him out over it...

//Get a grip, Mulder...last thing you need right now is to alienate the only person around who'll listen to your fucked-in-the-head theories without laughing...at least to your face...//

"Yeah, well...thanks for your concern," he mumbled, rubbing a hand through his hair, "but it's not necessary--"

But Alex had already gone into the kitchen, looking around with puzzlement. "Where's your microwave?"

"Don't have one."

"You're kidding -- everybody's got a microwave!"

"Well, I don't," he replied, defensiveness creeping into his tone, though he couldn't quite figure out why. "I'm never home to use one anyway."

"Okay, so we do it the old-fashioned way," Krycek sighed, flicking on the oven. "It's gonna take about half an hour to heat up, so you might as well go take a shower and change clothes or...something."

He followed Krycek's line of sight, glancing down at himself, at his rumpled suit. He'd flung off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves as soon as he'd hit the couch, but had found it too much of an effort to make himself more comfortable than that. 

Right now, though, the idea of a shower was strangely welcome, even enticing...

A lot more enticing than staying out here trying to make small talk with Alex until the food was ready.

"Go on," Krycek said, opening one cupboard, then another, finally finding clean plates to go with the silverware he already had laid out on the counter, "I'll take care of everything here."

The sight made the corners of his mouth quirk up. "Anybody ever tell you you'd make some guy a nice wife, Alex?"

It wasn't the icebreaker he was hoping for, not if Krycek's flinty-eyed, tight-jawed expression was anything to judge by. The savage tug Krycek gave the oven door was more than enough to make Mulder sprint for the bathroom, leaving a trail of shoes and clothing in the bedroom as he went. 

He didn't usually shut the bathroom door when he showered, but he did this time. The hot water smacked into him like a wall of concrete, jarring him to full awareness at last. Full awareness of everything...

Well, if he'd harbored doubts before, they were now totally shattered. Alex was suffering from more than just a bad case of hero worship --the guy had a full-fledged crush on him. Jesus, just what he needed right now... 

He didn't know why he found the revelation so stunning. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened -- there'd been a couple guys back at Oxford, but he'd simply told them he wasn't interested, and that had been that--

Only thing was, one part of his body belied his claim to no interest in this particular instance -- the part that was slowly stiffening as he stroked it with one soapy hand, as his mind conjured up an image of Alex in here with him, under the steamy spray, water slicking that silky-looking dark hair of his, pouring over his upturned face, down his throat, over the softly-thrumming pulse there--

He reached for the cold water knob, twisting it all the way, relief jetting through him as his arousal wilted under the icy blast.

He toweled off, but decided he still didn't have the energy to drag a razor over his face. Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, he ambled back into the kitchen with all the ease of a convict being led to the gallows.

The savory aromas wafting in the air helped him unclench a bit inside, but he bypassed the already-set kitchen table and took a seat on the couch. He always ate here. If Krycek didn't like it, he could sit at the table by himself. 

There was music playing too, softly, in the background; Krycek must've turned on the radio. Slouching forward, he ran both hands through hair still wet and spiky from the shower, letting the music wash over him, into him...

Spend all your time waiting  
For that second chance  
For a break that would make it okay  
There's always some reason  
To feel not good enough  
And it's hard at the end of the day

I need some distraction  
Or beautiful release  
Memories seep through my veins  
It may be empty or weightless   
Or maybe I'll find some peace tonight...

In the arms of the angel  
Far away from here  
>From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie   
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here...

"Hey."

He looked up to see Alex standing in front of him, plate of food in hand. 

"You hungry now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Mulder replied, taking the plate, setting it down on the coffee table in front of him, hunching over to start eating. He had no desire to examine either Alex's question or his answer too closely right now.

He shoveled the food into his mouth, suddenly ravenous, filling the aching hollowness in his belly, finally pushing the plate away--

"Want some more?"

Mulder looked up with a start; he hadn't realized Alex was still there. "I'm done," he said, handing back the plate. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The blood had rushed into his stomach, making him drowsy, but he didn't swing his legs up on the couch, didn't stretch out. Even if he wanted to sleep, he didn't think he'd be able to; he'd passed into a state way beyond normal exhaustion a long time ago. Probably the best he could hope for now was a dazed stupor.

Closing his eyes, he tried very hard to think of nothing...

Until he sensed the couch cushions dipping down on the other side of him, felt a hand on his shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his numbed mind he knew it was Krycek's hand, but he still didn't move. 

Then the hand started rubbing, kneading Mulder's shoulders, the nape of his neck, fingertips pressing, working out the knots there. Before long the other hand joined in, Krycek getting to his knees on the couch, moving behind him to gain a better grip.

His muscles screamed in protest, but it felt so damned good at the same time, the tension in his body untwisting by slow degrees, feeling the heat of Krycek's body so close to his, separated only by two whisper-thin layers of cotton. Something in Mulder told him he should be recoiling from such intimate contact with another man, but he found he had no will, no strength left to fight the inevitable...

And the inevitable was happening, right here, right now. He could feel it, hot, searing arrows of arousal shooting straight to his groin, turning him rock-hard. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so turned on with someone else in the room.

The barest touch of two very warm, soft lips on the side of his throat sent a molten jolt through him, nearly making him come in his pants--

And his eyes met Krycek's, hazel locking on green in the room's fading early-evening light--

And Krycek's mouth came down on his, subtle as a knife, tongue pushing roughly between his lips, sweeping inside--

He'd never dreamed another man could taste this good, a hot explosion of spice and musk smashing into him like a tidal wave, tearing away his mind's last ragged threads of resistance, stripping him bare--

He felt himself being pushed back lengthwise on the couch, felt the solid weight of Alex's body coming on top of his, mouth bestowing another brutal, endless kiss, hands tugging at Mulder's t-shirt, yanking it from the waistband of his jeans, fingers fumbling at his fly button, easing down his zipper, reaching inside--

Felt Alex sliding down, then something hot and wet closing over the tip of his erection, a velvety tongue flicking over him, finally engulfing him--

Alex's soft, insistent sucking conspired to drive him insane; Mulder let one hand drift down, tangling in black silk, holding him there, showing him how he wanted it. He didn't know where his partner'd learned to do what he was doing, but he knew he'd strangle him if he stopped. Hell, he'd probably strangle him if he didn't stop -- the way Alex was going, it looked like he was ready to swallow him whole--

And in the next second, that was exactly what he did, his head bobbing up and down, creating even greater friction, sucking harder, reaching underneath to cup, roll Mulder's testicles with one hand--

And that was all it took. With a cry torn from the base of his spine, he went sailing, hurtling headlong over the edge, Alex's mouth still milking him, swallowing him--

He didn't know how long it was before he finally regained his awareness, but the first thing he became conscious of was the fact that he was lying cradled in Alex's arms, his partner's t-shirted front pressed to his similarly-clothed back. Mulder's hand went straight to his fly, relief sluicing over him when he found his zipper closed. Maybe he'd dreamed it all...

Yeah, that was it -- he'd eaten too much and had fallen asleep here on the couch and had another nightmare, and Alex was just trying to make sure he was okay--

//To hell with that...c'mon, Mulder, face it...you let another guy suck you off, and you loved it...//

//And you want him to do it again...and a few other things besides...//

Sitting up abruptly, he scooted down to the far end of the couch, rubbing both hands over his face. 

"You okay?" Alex asked.

This time when he felt his partner's hand on his shoulder, he shook it off. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because...you wanted it, and because I did--"

"You came here for that, didn't you?" he demanded, twisting around to face the younger man. "You came here to seduce me."

"I came here to bring you dinner. I wasn't expecting to--"

"Bullshit," he rasped, getting up, shoving both hands into his pockets. "You've been looking at me like I was a rare steak from the second you got here, so don't tell me this wasn't planned--"

"It wasn't," Krycek shot back, getting up himself, going to the kitchen table, grabbing his jacket, putting it on, "but I don't suppose anything I say now'll make you believe that. Jesus, Mulder, after all this time working together, I thought you trusted me--"

"I don't trust anybody. Especially you."

"You trusted Scully."

Her name coming from Alex's mouth made his hands ball up into fists, his teeth clench. It took every last shred of his willpower to keep from grabbing Krycek by the neck of his shirt and throwing him through the nearest wall. "You leave her out of--"

"Why? Because you feel responsible for what's happened to her?"

"Get out," he snapped, red flashing in front of his eyes. "Get the fuck out of here right now, I'm warning you--"

"Or what? You're gonna hurt me? Try it," Alex said, his tone half-taunting, coming toward him, stopping right in front of him, so close he could feel Alex's breath warm and soft on his face. "You can't, can you? Not after what we've done."

Their close proximity was starting to do things to him again, hellish things, tearing him apart in both mind and body. "Just go," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Get out and leave me alone."

"Alone with your guilt? I don't think that'd be too smart." His hand came up, cupping the side of Mulder's throat where he'd kissed him earlier, sliding up, thumb splayed over his cheek. "They'll find her, Mulder. You can't give up hope yet."

"How do you know?"

"She hasn't been missing that long." Then, with a shrug, "it's just a feeling."

Weariness came over him then, a dense, knee-buckling rush that left him suddenly rubbery, boneless. Head tilting forward, he let his forehead touch Alex's, their mouths scant millimeters from making contact--

"You need sleep," Krycek said, "or you're gonna be useless tomorrow."

Like he'd been today, and the day before that. God, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt so tired it hurt to think, even to breathe--

"C'mon, Mulder," his partner said, stepping back into the stream of faint golden light still seeping through the thin white curtains, holding out his hand, "let's go to bed."

Mulder blinked, shaking his head. For a moment he couldn't help thinking Alex looked...

Ethereal. Unearthly...

Almost angelic.

It had to be the light, or maybe just the depth of his exhaustion. Either way, he didn't care. For that brief time on the couch with Alex, he'd found...solace. Peace. He wanted that feeling again. 

He took the proffered hand and followed.

 

* * *

 

Another scene that *might have happened* during "Ascension"  
by Sugar Rush

It was the sunlight that woke him up, watery grey streaks of it poking through his bedroom curtains. Rolling over, Mulder stole a squinty glance at his clock-radio. Five-twenty a.m. Good, he thought with a grateful yawn, he could sleep another hour...

Then it hit him. He'd slept. He'd slept almost twelve hours straight through. Without dreams, without nightmares--

With someone else in bed with him, he realized, finally spying the blanket-covered mound on the other side of him, a dark head facing away from him, toward the window--

Krycek. Alex Krycek--

And it all came back to him, the whole previous evening, all in one brain-spinning rush. He'd come home under Skinner's orders, ostensibly to rest, but he hadn't--

All he'd done was sit on the couch staring into space, tearing himself up inside over what had happened to Scully. Alex had shown up soon after, greasy bag of leftover Chinese food in hand, determined to feed him dinner. And he'd been too tired to put up a fight--

In more ways than one. Next thing he knew, he'd been flat on his back on the couch, Alex's face buried in his crotch, lips and tongue working him like a greedy furnace--

And when he came, it had split his soul in half.

The full impact of his exhaustion had smashed into him then, and Alex had helped him stumble into the bedroom, stripped them both down to their underwear, and put them to bed. Here. Together...

Mulder'd slept like a boulder from the second he'd tumbled into the sheets--

And Alex hadn't touched him again, all night long -- despite the fact that he'd been sporting an impressive hard-on the whole time he'd been tucking Mulder in -- those skin-tight white bikini briefs of his sure as hell didn't lie... 

Alex stirred, letting out a tiny groan as he rolled over on his back, shifting slightly, resettling into the mattress. 

His face looked...relaxed, almost childlike in sleep, all long lashes and pouty, half-opened lips, a few wispy black commas spilling over his cheeks and forehead. The face of an angel--

//A fallen angel...//

Yeah, somehow he doubted there were any up in Heaven that could do what this one had done to him last night...

He leaned in close, close enough to taste this angel's warm breath, close enough to dust those soft lips with the tiniest whisper of a kiss--

Close enough to see his eyelids twitch, then flutter open--

"Hi," Alex rasped, mouth curving up in a slow little half-smile.

"Hi yourself."

"How'd you sleep?"

The rough early-morning smokiness of his voice sent hot tendrils shooting down Mulder's spine, snagging his breath, pooling tight and heavy in his groin. After last night's exertions he'd doubted he'd be able to get it up again for another week, at least...

Alex gave a tiny shrug, along with a prompting look, and Mulder suddenly realized he'd been staring at him. 

"Um...fine," he mumbled, feeling the hot flush creeping into his face, "I slept fine."

"No nightmares?"

"No nightmares."

"Good. I was kinda worried about that." One hand came up, stroking Mulder's cheek, tousling his hair. And then he smiled, really smiled--

//A bone-melting smile--//

//A killer smile...//

God, it was like watching the sun rise for the first time, awe pumping through his veins like a shot of adrenalin. His mouth went desert-dry, just like it had last night, the first time he'd seen Alex standing outside his front door, in his jeans and t-shirt and leather jacket. One look had been enough to leave him dizzy, trembling inside, but he'd shrugged it off, dismissed it--

"Hey," Alex said softly, "Earth to Mulder."

Jesus, he'd been doing it again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"No problem. In fact, I consider it a compliment." Rolling onto his side, he lifted himself up on one elbow, his other hand trailing down to Mulder's shoulder, caressing, stroking. Mulder tamped down a shiver -- well, at least he tried to. "You've never done it with another guy before, have you?"

"Was I, uh...that obvious?"

"I know a virgin when I see one." 

He didn't think his face could've gotten any redder, but it must have, because Alex's hand was there on his cheek again, fingertips brushing the exact spot where the heat was centered. "S'okay, Mulder. I'm honored. Really."

Silence fell for a moment, just long enough for Mulder to set his derailed train of thought back on track. "How long have you...I mean, have you always known you were--"

"Bisexual? Yeah, ever since I was a teenager. Why?" A tiny pause. "God, last night really was a revelation for you, wasn't it?"

//Revelation...more like a fucking earthquake...//

His expression must have said it all, for Alex's grin widened. "Hey, so you're a late bloomer. Nothing wrong with that. Or, um..." his hand dropped, down to Mulder's throat, thumb barely tracing the soft pulse beating there, "maybe you're just curious. Is that it?"

Jesus, those green eyes of his went through him like a hot blade -- swift, brutal, threatening to tear him wide open. No point in trying to deny it now. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious..."

"But?"

"But I don't know if I'm ready for...um, well--"

"S'okay, I know what you mean. It can get a little...heavy if you're not used to it. We can go slow, whatever you're comfortable with. Hands and mouths're a nice way to start."

"Hands and mouths?"

"Yeah. Like this..." And Alex's weight came down on top of him, rolling him onto his back, brushing his forehead, eyelids, the tip of his nose with feathery butterfly kisses, moving slowly downward, carefully nipping at Mulder's lower lip, teasing him open--

The first touch of his tongue was incredible, indescribable, hot and rich and heady, gentle this time, not like last night's bruising, mind-shattering semi-rape, but no less forceful for its tenderness--

Mulder felt as if he'd fallen headlong into the ocean, more than willing to let himself drown in the sensations flooding his body--

In the warm wet velvet working, sliding, burning first in his mouth, then Alex's, Alex's fingertips cupping his cheek, trailing down his throat, his chest, his belly, moving inexorably lower, resting finally on the fly of his boxers--

Sweeping inside, grasping Mulder's straining erection, stroking his length, caressing the weeping tip with the pad of his thumb--

And Alex suddenly pulled back, breaking the kiss, mouth hovering over Mulder's, grinning, teasing, tantalizing--

"You want me? You want this?" he taunted, giving the hard shaft cradled in his palm a rough, insistent squeeze, making Mulder's hips arch, writhe helplessly against the mattress, grinding his own hard-on into Mulder's belly. "Say it."

He tried, but he couldn't say anything -- the breath had lodged somewhere between his lungs and throat and hung there suspended, a blazing, icy fist flexing in his chest. The most he could manage was a thin, piteous whimper.

"Say it or I'll stop."

"I...want you," he mouthed soundlessly.

"What was that? I didn't hear anything."

God, this was brutal, inhuman, any second he was going to explode...dark spots skittered before his eyes as he dragged in ragged gouts of air, forcing it down, finally feeling the knot inside him loosen, unravel--

"I want you," he gasped. "I want you like...like you wanted me yesterday..."

Alex froze, his cruel, playful smile fading. "Y-you mean that?"

"Yeah," he replied, licking his lips, his voice still only half-there, "let me taste you."

"Mulder, you don't have to--"

"I want to." It was true, he realized. Alex had given him pleasure and solace and release last night, without reservation, without taking anything for himself in return. Giving him that same pleasure now was only fair. "Please..."

"How can I refuse an offer like that?" Alex said, leaning in for a kiss, shuddering a little as his thumb traced Mulder's lower lip. "Just thinking about this mouth sucking me's enough to make me come..."

That was all Mulder needed to hear. Giving Alex a gentle push, they landed together back on the pillows on Alex's side of the bed, Mulder on top this time, kissing them both breathless. Rotating his hips against Alex's belly, then lower, he finally brought their erections into contact, rubbing them together through two maddeningly thin layers of cotton--

Making Alex groan, the breath hissing out of him hot and rapid, digging his nails into Mulder's back. "Jesus, stop that, okay? I'm too damn close--"

Another bruising kiss stifled his outcry, but if he said anything more once they broke apart Mulder didn't hear it. He was too busy tracing a warm, wet path down Alex's silky throat, nipping at the artery throbbing there, working his way further down--

Drawing a long, squiggly line down the center of Alex's chest with the tip of his tongue, halting for effect when he reached the younger man's navel, darting his tongue into the deep indentation, swirling it once, twice, three times, then looking up, into Alex's eyes, those deep green eyes that could flay him open with one glance--

Lifting himself slightly, he slid down, lying flat on his belly, his head and the upper part of his torso resting on Alex's thighs and belly, though he'd taken most of his weight on his elbows. The tip of his own erection had -- to his relief -- poked free of the tight confines of his boxers, pushing into the cool, crisp sheets--

It felt good -- better than good, in fact -- but he shunted the sensation aside, reaching for the waistband of Alex's briefs, easing them down just enough to free his erection and the soft sac just underneath, grinning at Alex's exhaled rush of air at the precise same moment, taking the stiff wand in one hand--

Caressing it, blowing gently on the rosy mushroom tip, coaxing forth a tiny drop of pearly moisture, lapping it away with the edge of his tongue, musk and sea-salt exploding into his mouth in a single head-spinning rush--

Drawing the tip between his lips, he ran his tongue along the underside, tracing the soft ridge, exploring, sliding down, taking as much as he could without gagging--

Suddenly feeling something warm and insistent touching the back of his head, weaving in his hair--

"C'mon, Mulder...suck me, for Chrissakes...I'm dying here..."

It felt good to hear him beg like that, to see his free hand digging, twisting into the sheets, to feel his hips jerking upward, trying to thrust deeper into his own mouth, desperate for release--

And he started moving, slowly at first, swallowing him a little more with each stroke, finally holding the full length of him easily in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the pulsing shaft, then the tip, alternating between the two, picking up speed and friction--

Alex's full-throated groans shot their bright echo into his own groin, and he rolled his hips deeper, grinding them into the sheets, fucking them in perfect rhythm with his sucking of Alex...

And then it happened, Alex grabbing a handful of Mulder's hair, spurting hot and sticky and salty-thick into his welcoming mouth--

His own orgasm following a split-second later, subtle as a jackhammer and every bit as shattering...

Next thing he knew, he was lying with his head nestled on Alex's belly, his hair being softly tousled. "Hey," he heard Alex say, "welcome back."

Moving up, he leaned in for a quick kiss before rolling onto his side, letting one hand rest on Alex's shoulder, absently stroking the soft skin there. "Hope I did it right."

"Jesus, like you have to ask? You could give lessons," Alex laughed. "I think I saw God about ten times. That was in-fucking-credible, Mulder. Kinda makes me wonder if you're really as innocent as you claim."

"Not anymore."

"No, I guess not," Alex whispered, kissing him again, lips teasing Mulder's open by torturous degrees, tongues delving, slow and wet and deep. "We still haven't tried everything yet, though..."

"We will, but later, okay?" he groaned. "You just about wore me out. Besides, there's no big rush, right? I don't think either of us is going anywhere."

Alex looked at him for a long time, almost as if he were memorizing him, locking his image away for safekeeping. "You're right," he said finally, his mouth quirking up in a lazy little half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "we've got plenty of time. All the time in the world."

\-- END --

 

* * *

 

The characters contained in this story do not belong to me -- they are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Twentieth-Century Fox Broadcasting. Long may they wave...  
Consider this third in the series begun by "Angel" and continued in "After Innocence." I had no intention of writing a series, but these damn story ideas keep spinning off each other faster than I can write them. Actually, I wrote this one for inclusion in a zine, thinking this would be the last story in the series -- and then I suddenly got ideas for two more, and I realized that anyone who'd read the first two would probably skin me alive for skipping ahead to the fourth one without letting you read this one first, so I had to go beg the zine editor to let me have this one back. And she did, gracious lady that she is...(thanks, Jo Ann!)  
And thanks to Leigh, Carol and Anna for reading and commenting. This story had a slightly more difficult gestation than the other two.  
Rated NC-17 for consensual m/m sex. If this isn't your thing, or if you are under 18, please read no further.  
Feedback may be addressed to:   
Enjoy!!

* * *

Parting Gift  
By Sugar Rush

He watched as they rolled the sheet-covered gurney out of the lodge, out to the ambulance, lifting it up and in, closing the doors on it, driving away. The autumn air had turned crisp and cool, but it hardly fazed him. He felt cold enough inside already.

Duane Barry, dead and as good as forgotten, except for the formality of an autopsy. Case closed, mission accomplished--

Assignment over. 

//Time to get out, disappear back into the woodpile like a good little rat--//

Like a murdering little rat. He'd killed today, twice, and despite his pangs of conscience earlier, it hadn't been hard to do. It had been easy, in fact, too easy, like flicking off a light when he left a room--

Like fading away, shedding this suit, letting his hair grow longer, becoming someone else--

That's what the old man had promised him. By tomorrow morning, all traces of Alex Krycek's existence would be wiped away, washed down the drain like a carton of bad milk. He had no idea who he'd be, what new name he'd be calling himself by this time next week, and he didn't care. He was tired, so tired it hurt to keep his eyes open--

So tired his muscles felt like they'd been stretched on a taffy pull--

No time for rest yet, though. He had one more thing left to do.

Mulder was right where he'd left him, sitting in the car on the passenger's side, staring straight ahead, paying no attention to Skinner or the other agents still milling around in front of the lodge. He hadn't paid attention to much of anything since the paramedics had arrived to work on Barry.

He didn't even glance up as Alex opened the door and leaned in to fasten his seatbelt, didn't say a word as Alex got in himself, started the car, started driving back down the mountain. All he did was stare out the window, eyes glassy, unfocused...

Deep, liquid hazel eyes...eyes that tore Alex apart inside, every look hurtling him back into his own private hell--

He should never have let it happen. He should never have shown up at Mulder's apartment two nights ago, leftover Chinese in hand, should never have tried to--

Hell, he'd done more than try. He'd pushed him flat on his back on the couch, ripped open his fly and started sucking him off-- 

And Mulder'd been more than ready for it, hot and hard, aching, practically begging for his mouth, coming like a freight train at full steam, so fast and thick and creamy-sweet just the memory of it started shimmery quicksilver fingers spiraling down to his own groin--

He'd stayed the rest of the night, slept with Mulder in his bed, though they hadn't done anything more until morning. And even then, they hadn't progressed past kissing, caressing and oral sex -- Mulder'd been too hesitant to try anything heavier than that their first time together, Mulder's first time with another man, period--

It hadn't been part of the plan. The old man had ordered him to gain Mulder's trust, and he'd already done that without sex entering the picture. There had been no defensible reason for what'd happened the other night--

No reason other than that he'd wanted it. He'd wanted it from the moment he'd walked into the Bureau bullpen and saw Mulder sitting there at his desk, transcribing wiretap tape with those gorgeous long-fingered hands of his--

And then he'd glanced up, making eye contact, gold-flecked hazel locking on green--

And he'd started talking, words spilling from that full, sensual mouth like diamonds onto black velvet--

And that had been it. Lust at first sight. Lust that'd kept him up every night -- literally -- conjuring all sorts of seduction fantasies, frustrating the hell out of him, finally forcing him to take matters into his own hands to relieve the pressure--

But it hadn't been enough. And it still wasn't enough, even now, especially now that he'd had a taste of the real thing--

He hadn't expected this to happen, but then, he hadn't expected a lot of things. He hadn't expected to kill anyone, and he sure as hell hadn't expected to feel so...unmoved, indifferent about it when it'd finally happened. 

He hadn't expected to feel the way he did now -- like there was a lump of something solid and burning lodged in his throat, and nothing he did would get it to go up or down. Like the sight of Mulder's apartment building looming there in front of him was enough to make his eyes start stinging, watering--

He pulled up at the curb, switched off lights and ignition, then just sat there, staring out the windshield. Was this what regret felt like? He didn't know. He'd never felt it before -- at least, not like this, not in such a dense, crushing wave that it hurt to breathe...

Mulder stirred, lifting his head from the seat cushions, blinking; he must've dozed most of the way back, and Alex hadn't even noticed. "We home?"

"Yeah," Alex replied, getting out, swinging around to the other side of the car just in time to keep Mulder from taking a headlong spill onto the sidewalk. He was still shellshocked from everything that had happened on the mountain. Alex could've kicked himself now for not having had the presence of mind to ask the paramedics for a tranquilizer for him. Maybe there was something upstairs in his medicine cabinet to help him sleep through the night.

Somehow they stumbled to the elevator, down the hallway to Mulder's apartment, got inside, then to the bedroom. Mulder hit the mattress with all the grace of a lead weight, gazing up at Alex with breathless gratitude--

And an instant erotic image flashed before his eyes -- the two of them, tumbling together in these crisp cool sheets, skin to skin, mouths touching, devouring--

//No...not now, for Chrissakes...//

Time to get this over with. Leaning down, he pulled off Mulder's shoes, then started tugging his suit jacket off him--

Mulder stiffened a moment, then went completely limp, moving only when necessary to help Alex strip him down to his boxers, finally rolling over on his stomach in the middle of the bed, pulling a pillow under his head, eyes fluttering closed. 

Alex gathered up Mulder's clothes, hanging them over the back of a chair as best he could, then headed for the bathroom. All he could find in the way of sedatives was a year-old prescription of Darvocet, but he guessed that'd do; not too strong, but it'd knock him out for a few hours, if nothing else. Two pills and a glass of water in hand, he padded back into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Mulder's shoulder. 

"Hmmmm?" he growled, opening one bleary eye.

"Sit up a minute. I want you to take this."

"What is it?"

"Sleeping pills."

"Shit, Alex, I was already asleep--"

"You were dozing, not sleeping. C'mon, take 'em. You need a good night's rest for a change."

Apparently that was all the argument he needed, for Mulder sat up, took the pills from him and chased them down with a healthy slug of water, then dropped back onto his pillow with a gusty sigh, eyelids drooping half-closed. "You coming to bed soon?"

The question made his breath catch, his pulse quicken, but only for a second. Mulder'd be asleep in maybe half an hour, and he could slip out of here then, unhindered and unnoticed. "Yeah, in a few minutes. I...um, just wanted to make sure you were okay first."

"Thanks," Mulder whispered--

And in the next second he felt warm skin brushing his wrist, then another palm covering his, fingers softly intertwining. "You are gonna stay, right?" Mulder asked.

He was about to reply, had another glib lie all ready to go, but somehow the words got stuck halfway between his throat and his mouth. 

"Alex?" Both deep hazel eyes were gazing at him now, hazy with incipient drowsiness. "Don't go, okay? I'd rather not wake up alone tomorrow if you...um, know what I mean."

"Okay," he said finally, giving their clasped hands a tiny squeeze. What did a few more hours matter, really? He'd leave in the morning, early; that'd still give him plenty of time...

Rising, he slid off the bed, untangling his hand from Mulder's, Mulder's head jerking up as he did so. "I'm just gonna use the bathroom, then I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

The back of the bathroom door felt cool pressed against his forehead, calming, quieting the sudden rush of blood in his temples, helping him regain his equilibrium. He stripped quickly, all the way down to his briefs, hanging his clothing on a hook on the back of the door, palm lingering over the knob, wanting what awaited him in the bedroom, yet dreading it at the same time...

He could do this...had to do this, for Mulder's sake. It was just comfort and companionship, just for tonight. Affection, not sex--

No, not sex. They hadn't crossed that line -- well, not all the way, anyway -- and they weren't about to, not now. This was going to be hell enough for both of them without that kind of complication. 

His mouth quirked up when he saw that Mulder had crawled under the covers and moved over to the far side of the bed while he'd been out of the room, leaving the covers pulled back, a pillow plumped up for him on the other side. The cool sheets feathered his skin like a kiss, breath hissing gratefully from his lips as he sank into them, into the mattress.

He was just starting to nod off when he sensed Mulder shifting, rolling over, felt an arm draping across his midriff, something soft and vaguely moist touching the skin there--

Mulder's lips. Mulder's head, resting halfway between his belly and chest, spiky hair tickling, cheek pressing against him like warm satin--

"Got lonely over there by myself," he mumbled, peering up with a woozy little half-grin, "hope you don't mind..."

Dizziness spun him like the last car in a chain collision; he'd never been so thankful for already being lying down. "Um...Mulder, I don't think this is such a great idea..."

"Why not?"

"I can't see either of us getting any sleep like this--"

"I'm...um, comfortable enough, thank you," he murmured, snuggling closer, then, with a tiny sigh, "g'night..."

He tried nudging Mulder, tried getting him to roll back over to his own side of the bed, but it wasn't working -- Mulder's arm had become dead weight, and he'd already started snoring. Apparently the Darvocet had finally decided to kick in.

And here he was, wide awake and likely to remain that way for the rest of the night, with an unrelieved hard-on to boot, if the slow throbbing in his groin was any indication--

Shit. Well, he'd asked for it, sticking around like this when he should be a hundred miles away from here by now, two hundred--

Jesus, no...he didn't want to think about that, not about having to leave, not now. Time for that would come soon enough...

He let his hand drift down, tousling, tangling in Mulder's hair. Light chocolate-brown silk, so soft, shiny...beautiful. Just like the rest of him...

His own breathing quieted, evened out, pulse twinning the rhythm he could feel in Mulder's wrist resting on his belly. His hard-on had risen to half-mast, a warm, insistent presence there between his legs, but not demanding immediate attention just yet. God, it felt so sweet, so damn good...

He wasn't even aware he'd fallen asleep until something shocked him out of it, jolting him so hard he had to grab hold of the mattress to keep from getting dumped onto the floor--

Mulder, tossing, thrashing in the sheets, whimpering piteously in the throes of a nightmare--

Sliding over next to him, his front pressed to Mulder's back, he wrapped his arms around him, holding him still, then started stroking his shoulders, his arms, gently trying to wake him--

The sudden calming of his breathing told Alex he'd succeeded, but aside from that, there was no other sign that Mulder even knew he was there. "You okay?" he asked finally, brushing his lips across the nape of Mulder's neck. 

"Yeah, I guess. I had a dream..."

"No kidding?"

That made them both chuckle, a faint, raspy sound that died quickly.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I...um, don't think I can..."

"Try."

The breath he took sounded more like a sob, rattling all the way down into his chest, its rawness making Alex wince. "It was...it was Scully...I saw her lying on this...I guess it was a table, a surgical table, and they were doing things to her..."

//Oh Jesus...oh God, not this...//

"They?" he prompted, not wanting to but needing to, needing to hear it all, all the horror in his mind, waiting for a clue, something, anything to help him through it. "Who were they? Who was doing this to her?"

"Don't know, I couldn't see them...but they were hurting her, I could hear her screaming, calling out to me to help her, and I tried but...I couldn't find her. It was like I was trapped inside this giant hall of mirrors...and every time I got close, her image shattered..." The pain inside him let loose then; he turned his face to the pillow, burying it there, hands grabbing, twisting the sheets. "It's all because of me. If I'd just left her alone, stayed out of contact with her after they'd broken us up, none of this would've--"

"You don't know that. You can't blame yourself--"

"Yeah, well, if you can think of somebody better to blame, be my guest."

He could, but he couldn't say it. 

"If she's dead...it's on me, Alex, all on me. And I'm gonna carry it..."

They didn't say anything more for a long time, just lay there spooned together, Alex softly kissing Mulder's neck and shoulders, stroking, soothing him until his crying finally subsided and he rolled over, looking up at Alex, hazel eyes still liquid, fathomless, rimmed with red now--

And his mouth swooped down on Mulder's with brutal, drugging intensity, tongue thrusting between eagerly parted lips--

Light-headedness overwhelming him at the sweet, smoky taste waiting for him there, another tongue dueling with his, warm, languid sweep and slide of wet velvet--

Another hand snaking down, fingertips trailing lightly over his chest, his belly, making him shiver, moving lower, down to the waistband of his briefs, slipping inside, enveloping, grasping him--

And he pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss, breath coming in ragged, tortured gasps. No, he couldn't do this, not now, not when he had to--

"What's wrong?" Mulder asked, reaching up, cupping, caressing his cheek, his throat.

"I'm, uh...not ready for this..."

"Sure as hell feels like you are," he replied, half-grinning, his other hand gently squeezing his erection. "C'mon, Alex, I want you..."

"Mulder--"

"I want you to do me."

Something in his voice, some faint, whisper-light undertone he'd never heard from him before shot straight up his spine, lodging in the back of his brain, stinging there like the tip of an icepick. "Wh-what?"

"Make love to me...the way you wanted to the other morning."

//Oh, God, oh, Jesus, this is too much, way too much for any sane man to bear...maybe if I just close my eyes for a second, a minute all this'll go away--//

But he did, and it didn't. He was still there, and so was Mulder, staring up at him with such open, naked desire in his eyes--

"You sure?" he asked. "I mean, the other day you said you weren't ready--"

"I'm ready now. I want to know how it feels, how you feel...and I want..." Breath snagging, Mulder paused, eyes flashing pain. "I just want to forget everything else for a little while, like I did when you were here the other night...God, it felt so damned good..."

So it was solace he really wanted, not sex, though he was willing to accept what small measure of it he could find there; Alex supposed it was as fair an exchange as any. "S'okay, Mulder...I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss, slow and sweet and deep, tracing Mulder's lower lip with the tip of his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, feeling suddenly as if he'd just jumped from a 747 without a parachute--

And he didn't care. Even the lie he'd just told barely pricked at his conscience. He'd probably regret doing this at some point down the road, but he could deal with that--

He'd never be able to deal with regretting not doing it...

He let his lips trail down, along the line of Mulder's jaw to his ear, gently sucking, biting at the lobe, smiling at Mulder's gasp, at the way his body arched to meet his, the way his head fell back against the pillows, offering him freer access--

And he took advantage, moving lower, down his throat, pausing to lave the artery throbbing there, down the lightly-furred plane of his chest, palming, tweaking one nipple to pebbled stiffness, down to his navel, tongue swirling, stabbing the soft, puckered indentation--

Hooking two fingers in the waistband of Mulder's boxers, slipping them down and off, freeing his rising erection--

Stilling him with a touch when he tried to turn over. "Hey, take it easy. I'm not done here yet."

"Yeah, you are. I want you in me when I come--"

"It may not happen the first time. You may not even like it."

"I'm liking it so far, aren't I?"

The hungry look on Mulder's face was more than enough to stay any further protests on his part. "Roll over," he said, grabbing a pillow from his own side of the bed as Mulder did so, then gesturing for him to lift up his hips so he could slide it under him. Off Mulder's puzzled look, he added, "trust me, this'll make it easier on both of us."

He stretched out on top of Mulder, taking his weight on one elbow, his other hand beginning a leisurely exploration of every sleek millimeter of Mulder's muscled back, mouth bestowing soft, wet kisses in its wake--

His erection making contact, rubbing the dimpled dip at the base of Mulder's spine, the cleft of his ass. God, if he wasn't still wearing his briefs, it'd be so easy to just spread him wide and take him, right here, right now--

Apparently Mulder was having exactly the same idea, for he pushed upward, arching his back, grinding his ass into Alex's crotch--

Making Alex grab hold of his hips to force him to stop. "Not yet. We're not ready."

"I am."

"Jesus, Mulder, we're not running a race here. What kind of lover would I be if I just reamed you out with no foreplay, huh?"

"Try the merciful kind."

"Mulder--"

"Just do it, Alex. I want you to." The glance he aimed over his shoulder was the clincher -- desperate, pleading, close to pain. "If you don't, I'm gonna end up drilling a hole in this pillow."

He couldn't dive for the bedside table fast enough, ripping the drawer open, rummaging inside, finally finding condoms and lubricant, opening the tube, squirting some onto his fingers, shuddering slightly at the cool, slippery feel of it--

Mulder bit down on his lip as Alex spread him open, smoothing gel into his downy-soft crevice, gradually working one slick finger, then another into him, all the way into him, stretching him, making him whimper, thrust backward, impaling himself on Alex's hand--

And that was all it took. Alex nearly broke his foot getting his briefs off, the white cotton tangling around one ankle, breath catching at the sudden shock of cool air wafting over his throbbing erection, hands shaking so badly he almost ripped the condom trying to get it on--

Mulder was ready, waiting for him, balancing himself on the palms of his hands, the pillow raising his ass slightly higher than the rest of him, lifting him for easier penetration. Alex moved behind him, positioning himself, giving a little push, just enough to see the tip of his erection disappear inside Mulder's tight opening--

Fireworks went off behind his eyes, slick, satiny heat enveloping him, engulfing him, gripping him like a glove--

He let gravity do most of the work, sinking in with such excruciating slowness he was sure he'd lose it any second, a small strangled sound issuing from his lips when he finally met resistance and, glancing down, realized he was in as far as he could go. Slowly, gently at first, he began to move, picking up speed and momentum, rocking deeper with each endless stroke, pulling all the way out, driving back in--

Leaning forward until he lay flat against Mulder's back, nipping at the silken skin there at the curve of his throat, burying his face in spice-scented hair, seizing a handful, dragging Mulder's head back for a bruising, dominating kiss--

Mulder gasped, moaned, hands scrabbling, bunching in the sheets, hips flexing, rolling, meeting him thrust for thrust, pumping the pillow even as Alex's hand snaked under him, grasping his weeping erection with lube-slicked fingers, milking him, fucking him with his fist--

And he could feel it, right there in his hand, building at the base of his spine, surging upward, ripping, unraveling them both at the same time--

He didn't remember losing consciousness, but the next thing he was aware of, he was lying on his back, Mulder curled up beside him, head resting on his belly, breathing in sleep's slow, steady rhythm. Hazy streaks of sunlight were pouring in through the curtains, grey tinged with gold, prompting him to steal a glance at Mulder's clock-radio. Five-forty a.m.

Time to go. 

He rolled Mulder off him with no trouble this time, turning him onto his side, lying there a moment with him, spooned together, running a hand over his shoulder, ruffling his hair, pressing a kiss to his throat. Mulder stirred, groaned, then lay still.

He got up, went to the bathroom for his clothes, washed his hands and face and got dressed, taking care not to look in the mirror, or at anything in the bedroom as he walked back through it, through the living room, the kitchen, out the front door.

His eyes didn't focus again until he reached the car, started it, put it in gear, started driving. He'd gone ten miles before he realized he had no idea where he was headed, but it hardly mattered. New place, new name, new identity...it was all the same to him. Another life to be used up and tossed away like a piece of Kleenex. 

The morning air was brisk, biting, stinging his skin, sticking an icy finger down the back of his neck. Shivering, he flicked on the heater, flipping up his jacket collar. Funny, but it'd been colder than this up on the mountain last night, and he hadn't felt it then...

But for some odd reason, he felt it now.

\-- END -- 

 

* * *

 

The characters contained in this story are not my property -- they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Twentieth-Century Fox Broadcasting.  
Here it is -- yet another sequel to "Angel." I think you'll all really like this one -- it has a relatively *happy* ending, for a change...  
Rated NC-17 for consensual m/m sex...  
Thanks be to Anna for letting me paraphrase a nice snippet of dialogue she posted to the M/K list last week, and to Leigh for starting this in the first place...I don't know if I'll ever forgive you...  
Feedback may be sent to:   
Okay to archive to MKRA...

* * *

Room Service  
By Sugar Rush

Hong Kong International Airport

"Get in the bathroom. Now."

Green eyes widened, glittered in feral desperation, lips parting, a tiny pink tongue-tip darting out to moisten them. "Jesus, Mulder...I mean, I'm flattered, but can't you wait till we get someplace a little more private?"

That put a hitch in Mulder's breath, a jump in his pulse, but he tamped it down. No time for this now. "It's a long flight back, and I'm not letting you out of my sight for a second. You want to try holding it for fifteen hours, be my guest."

The corners of Krycek's mouth quirked up, one hand sliding down to his crotch, lingering there, thumb hooked in a beltloop. "You wanna try holding it?"

There was no mistaking his meaning now -- just like there'd been no mistaking it a couple minutes ago, when Mulder'd had him pinned against that pay-phone, their hips grinding together with all the tenderness of two dogs in rut. It'd been all he could do to grab Krycek's gun and break away before the rising bulge in his own pants became all too apparent. Thank God he was wearing a coat--

But the shift in proximity wasn't helping -- quite the opposite, in fact, every glance passing between them crackling in the air, sending a hot flush creeping beneath Mulder's skin, making him feel like he'd just rolled in a pit of itching powder--

"Get going," he ground out through gritted teeth, cocking his head toward the men's room.

Krycek's smirk stayed firmly in place but he did as he was told, waiting for Mulder to poke his head inside and give the all-clear before following him in, heading straight for the sink, flicking on the cold water, splashing it on his face and neck, washing away the blood and sweat there with a grateful groan. Straightening up, he grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser near the sink, wiping face and hands dry--

Green eyes meeting hazel right there in the mirror--

Different green eyes, Mulder realized with a sudden pang -- changed, hard and frosty now, an ocean frozen over, a far cry from the open, overeager enthusiasm of the Alex Krycek he'd worked with two years ago--

//But that Krycek never existed...you just wanted to believe he did, for as long as he kept telling you'd they'd find Scully--

//For as long as he kept fucking you--//

And even that hadn't lasted long. Just two nights...

Two nights he couldn't get out of his mind, even now, especially now...even all the rage and hatred blazing through his veins couldn't completely obliterate the hot, sweet taste of those memories, and the lust they inspired--

He almost slammed into the wall when Krycek pushed past him, trying to get to a stall--

Both of them jumping as if burned when Mulder reached out, grabbing Krycek's arm--

Holding him back until he swung the stall door open himself, looking inside. No windows, no skylight, no apparent route of escape. "Go on," he said finally.

"What, aren't you afraid I'll crawl out through the toilet?"

He hadn't thought of that, though he probably should have. Going in, he waggled the toilet handle, flushing it, watching the water swirl down. After a second he shrugged, holstering his gun. "Looks safe to me."

Krycek stared at him a moment, obviously not sure whether he should be laughing or not. "Y-you were serious about that, weren't you?"

"Any reason I shouldn't be?"

And then it happened -- a tiny tug at the corners of his lips, slowly, steadily working its way into a grin. Not a smirk, or even a sardonic chuckle, but an all-out, full-faced grin that could've kept the electricity going in four states for a week--

Mulder's back thumped the wall of the stall at the exact same moment he felt sure his knees were about to go out from under him--

Krycek's hands slapping flat on the wall on either side of Mulder's head, faces close enough to sense the warmth of each other's breath--

Close enough for him to catch Krycek's scent in full force -- musky, dark, unwashed--

Primal, irresistible. He bit back a moan, his erection twitching to fresh new life. He hadn't been this hard since that night two years ago, on the couch in his living room--

The night Krycek'd pushed him flat on his back and sucked him to a fare-thee-well with that lush mouth of his--

That same mouth so near to his now, a hair's-breadth from touching, halting suddenly, dipping down to his throat, teasing, brushing the soft pulse thrumming there--

"You think this is safe?" he murmured, glancing up, looking Mulder straight in the eye, two fingers stroking the line of his jaw. "I don't think it's safe at all...want me to stop?"

He tried to speak, but his throat had closed up. All he could manage was a feeble nod.

"Liar," he rasped, one hand snaking down, grasping, squeezing Mulder's erection. "You tell me one thing, your body tells me something else. Which should I believe?"

//Both...neither...shit, I don't care...just keep doing what you're doing...//

His surrender must have shown in his face, for Krycek leaned closer, soft, moist lips touching Mulder's own, so gently he barely felt it, dusting the corners of his mouth with tiny feathery bites, nipping and licking until his lips parted, opened for Krycek's probing tongue--

He tasted like...sunlight and fresh water and two years of sleepless nights tossing alone in his bed, wanting this, yearning for it, remembering how it was, so fevered and head-spinningly intense he couldn't be remembering it right, nothing had ever felt, ever could feel this good--

But it did, and it was, and right now nothing short of a nuclear blast was going to keep him from feeling it again--

He barely registered Krycek's foot kicking the stall door shut, then the click of the latch -- all he was aware of was the other man sliding down on his knees in front of him, then the invisible scratch and pull of a zipper, and his own strangled gasp as cool air hit heated skin--

Lips, stubbled skin touching his belly right between his navel and the waistband of his boxers, following the crisp, springy treasure line downward--

Fingers gently slipping the confining underwear off, letting it pool around his ankles along with his pants, freeing his stiffened flesh--

A hot, silky curl of tongue around the tip of his erection, darting, teasing the tiny slit there, tracing the soft ridge--

Sliding down his shaft, engulfing half his length in one slow, sinuous stroke, starting to move--

It took all Mulder's willpower not to lose it right then and there, but he didn't, just let his hand float down, tangling in the other man's hair, burying his fingers in thick black satin, trying to guide him to a steady, gentle rhythm--

But Krycek ignored him, speeding up, head bobbing, tongue swirling, wrapping around his shaft, flicking over the tip--

Green eyes looking up, locking on his--

And that did it. Thrusting once, twice deep into Krycek's throat, he shattered like a window with a brick flung through it--

He didn't lose consciousness this time, though probably only because Krycek's arm was there, wrapping around his back, shoring him up. Warm, moist lips were there too, teasing his own lips open again, letting him taste his own taste still clinging to Krycek's tongue, sticky, spicy-sweet...

"God, I missed this," Krycek whispered, mouth hovering bare millimeters from his, so close he could feel the other man's words sinking directly into his skin, "missed you..."

And he melted, leaning into him with dreamy abandon, Krycek's hard-on pressing into his own belly with warm insistence, mouths meeting, devouring--

A frozen jolt jetting through him at the sound of the outside door banging open, footsteps clacking on tile, coming closer--

Entering the stall next to them, flipping the latch--

Krycek pulled back, but didn't break away, just looked at him with eyes widened in amusement, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth--

And the dream faded, dissipating like morning fog even as Mulder's hand snaked down, discovering with mingled relief and dismay that his pants were now miraculously refastened around his hips. Krycek must've done it, though for some reason his own consciousness had blanked it out--

And his brain finally kick-started again, racing with his pulse at a million miles a second, cold sweat breaking out in bullets all over him--

//This is not fucking happening...I'm not standing in a bathroom in the fucking Hong Kong Airport knocking tonsils with another man--

//With Krycek, for shit's sake...the man who killed my father--//

He pushed Krycek away the instant he heard the outside door swinging shut, slamming him back hard against the far wall.

"Mulder, what the hell're you--"

"You're going to walk out of here ahead of me and go directly to our gate. Don't turn around, and don't talk to me for any reason."

"But...wait a minute, I don't--"

"Shut up and get moving."

Krycek looked like he was going to say something anyway, then, eyes narrowing, jaw going tight, he moved, out of the stall, out of the men's room into the congested terminal, not five steps ahead of Mulder the entire way as they both headed for the gate--

Just in time to see the plane taxiing away.

The last flight of the day back to D.C. -- or anywhere else on the eastern seaboard, according to the departures listed on the blue-screen monitors right next to the gate. Terrific, just fucking terrific...

"Let's go," he said tersely, nodding Krycek toward the entrance to the concourse.

Neither one of them said a word on their short cab ride to the nearest hotel to the airport. The front desk clerk spoke flawless English and didn't twitch a hair when Mulder slapped down his Amex card and asked for a double room for the night, even when her gaze flicked over Krycek, standing right behind him. "With two beds," Mulder hastened to add, feeling so suddenly, totally wiped he didn't even bother asking the nightly rate.

But he should have, he realized as soon as he got the door open. It was a double room, all right -- for somebody with Donald Trump's expense account. Plush white furniture with throw-pillows and carpeting to match, a big-screen TV and stereo, a wet bar with every kind of liquor known to man--

And two beds. Two double beds.

At least they weren't waterbeds, he thought, plopping down on the edge of one of them, watching wearily as Krycek did a slow circuit of the room, finally pulling off his leather jacket, throwing it on the other bed with a smirk. "Nice work, Mulder -- looks like you snagged us the honeymoon suite." Off Mulder's look, he spat, "what, am I still forbidden to talk to you?"

"Do whatever you want, I don't give a shit," he sighed, leaning down to tug off his shoes. He was too fucking tired to put up even a token fight; all he wanted right now was for the whole day to just disappear...

"Okay, fine," Krycek said, "I'm taking a shower."

And he proceeded to strip, peeling off his t-shirt, then his jeans, kicking off his shoes. Mulder turned away, face suddenly, inexplicably burning, pulling the phone book from the bedside table drawer, though he couldn't think of anybody he had to call--

Breath rushing out in a gust when he finally heard the bathroom door snick shut, then the soft patter of water hitting tile--

Jesus, he could just imagine it, imagine him, Krycek, stepping under the warm spray, water soaking, slicking that black hair, pouring over his skin--

He slumped over with a bone-deep groan, elbows on knees, head hanging down, sweet knives of fire stabbing at his groin. This was hell, and he'd hurled himself right into it. What was he thinking, bringing Krycek to a hotel with him? If he'd had any sense at all, he'd have dragged him down to the nearest local lockup and left him there for the night--

But he hadn't. And here he was, sweaty and exhausted, with a hard-on that threatened to bust through his fly any second--

And if he got any sleep at all tonight, it'd be a fucking miracle...

He wasn't sure he'd even be able to stand up, but he did, pulling off his coat and suit jacket--

Suddenly realizing he still had Krycek's gun. It was right there, a solid, unmistakable lump in his coat pocket. Krycek had had ample opportunity to get it away from him at the airport, to just take it and run--

But he hadn't. He hadn't even tried...

His gaze drifted, lighting finally on the other bed, on Krycek's clothes, laying there in a limp, wadded-up bundle--

Fingering the grey t-shirt, he picked it up, the thin cotton draping over one hand, finger poking through a hole torn under one sleeve--

Nose wrinkling at the dank, musty whiff of body odor wafting up from it. Jesus, it smelled like he'd been wearing it for a week--

Tossing it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, he fished in his own bag for a second, pulling out a fresh white undershirt, throwing it on top of Krycek's jeans. He had to sit next to the guy on a fifteen-hour flight tomorrow, and he wasn't about to hold his breath for the entire trip...

He jumped slightly as the bathroom door opened and Krycek emerged, turning his back as the other man came over to the bed, reaching for his jeans, though Mulder could see from the corner of one eye that he'd already donned his briefs--

"I'm...um, gonna wash up too," he mumbled, grabbing underwear, jeans and a clean t-shirt from his bag, heading toward the bathroom before Krycek could answer. He didn't realize until he'd already shut the door that Krycek's gun was still in his coat pocket, right there on the bed--

He stared at the back of the bathroom door, considering, then unslung his holster, started undressing. It didn't matter. If Krycek wanted to come in here and shoot him, he was welcome to. He wasn't going back out in that room until he felt clean again...if that were even possible...

He turned the water on as cold as he could get it, teeth rattling as he stepped under it, relief sluicing over him when he toweled off, frozen but finally clear-headed. Now if he could just manage to stay this way for the rest of the night...

Krycek was standing at the balcony window when he came out, staring out at the view, thousands of lights set into the skyline like twinkling diamonds. He turned around just as Mulder'd tossed his clothing onto his own bed, a slight smile turning up his lips as he fingered the new white t-shirt he was wearing. "Thanks. Guess the one I was wearing was getting a little ripe..."

"No problem." He'd started moving closer, then caught himself, stopping dead, eyes slowly sweeping the other man. Five months on the run had put muscle on him, lean, ropy sinews in his shoulders, neck and upper arms, playing subtly under taut, tanned skin. On closer inspection, though, his jeans weren't anywhere near as new as they'd appeared earlier, frayed at the waistband and ankles, knees scuffed almost white--

Breath caught, froze in Mulder's chest as Krycek turned, came toward him, hand fumbling in one of his pockets, pulling something out. The key to that locker he'd mentioned in D.C. "Here," Krycek said, holding it out to him, "take it."

What twisted little game was he playing now? "You said you'd only give it to me if I let you go. I'm not letting you go."

"I don't care, take it. I'd rather you held onto it anyway."

He held out his palm, let Krycek drop the key into it, not wanting to touch him even for a millisecond. "You gonna tell me where this locker is?"

"When we get there."

Shoving the key into his own pocket, he felt a smirk twist his lips. "Guess selling classified government secrets isn't as profitable as I thought. If it is, you sure don't dress the part."

He hadn't believed it possible, but Krycek's eyes flashed even colder than they'd been the first time he'd seen them reflected back at him in that men's room mirror at the airport. "Took me three months to hook up with Kallenchuk, cut a deal for the documents she wanted. Even after I delivered, the bitch never paid me a fucking dime." Off Mulder's look, he hissed out a bitter chuckle. "Why d'you think I broke into her office? Don't flatter yourself that I was waiting for you, Mulder -- I didn't even know you were still alive until you walked in there tonight."

Neither one of them said anything for a long time, Krycek wandering to the window again, looking outside, half-turned to Mulder. Night light bathed him, ethereal, blue-white, glowing off his shirt, his skin...

"The old man told me you were dead," he said finally, his voice so soft and smoky Mulder had to strain to hear it. "Said he'd made sure of it himself. You should've seen the look on his face when he was telling me...Jesus, he was loving every second of it, the fucking twisted bastard. After that, anything he wanted me to do, I did. I didn't care what happened anymore. I think I was hoping somebody'd kill me...save me the effort of doing it myself."

Jesus, this was too much -- he couldn't believe he was still standing here listening to this. "Put away the violins, Alex. Do you really think my heart's gonna bleed for you, after you killed my father--"

"I already told you, it wasn't me--"

"Maybe you didn't pull the trigger, but you were there, you had to be. Either way you could've stopped it from happening, and you didn't."

"I had no choice, Mulder. He was getting ready to tell you everything...and if he had, I would've had to kill you too. And I couldn't..." Voice cracking, he swung around, looking Mulder straight in the eye. "I couldn't let myself make that choice."

Silence fell again, a heavy blanket that threatened to smother both of them, crush his own heart under its weight--

God, oh God, he hadn't known...had never realized Alex had felt this way, not about him, about anything...

All this time he'd hated him, for his betrayal, for what had happened to his father, and Scully's sister...for leaving him the morning after he'd let Alex make love to him completely for the first time--

It'd never occurred to him that Alex's pain might have matched -- or even surpassed -- his own...

"Yeah, I bent the rules that night," Alex went on, "but I broke the cardinal rule a long time before that, and that's the one I'm still paying for: never get emotionally involved with your assignment."

Mulder wasn't sure which one of them moved, how the space between them closed, but somehow they did, and it did, because the next thing he was aware of, he was standing next to Alex in the middle of the room--

Shuddering as he felt Alex's hand reaching up, cupping, stroking his cheek--

"How did you live?" he blurted.

"What?"

"Here, for five months...if you never got any money for the tape..?"

"God, Mulder, don't do this--"

"I want to know."

"What the hell d'you think I did? I hustled. I bent over and took it from any cock with cash." He swallowed hard, eyes floating shut a moment, long black lashes stark against pale skin. "After awhile, it wasn't so bad. Asian men don't like it as rough as Americans, and most of 'em aren't that big. Less wear and tear on the merchandise."

The words sailed, tore through him, a hot knife lodging in his chest. "Jesus, Alex, how can you just...shrug it off like that, like it doesn't even matter--"

"It doesn't."

"It does to me."

"I'd never have done it if...if I'd known you were still alive, if that makes a difference. I would've found another way..."

Their mouths touched then, a tiny, almost chaste brushing, scarcely felt, the anticipation of something more shooting through them both with all the knee-buckling brilliance of chain lightning--

Stumbling to the nearest bed, shoving everything piled on it onto the floor, they fell back together, tongues sliding hot and wet, tearing at each other's clothes--

Rolling and tumbling finally skin to skin, Alex's soft lips kissing a hot, moist path down to the hollow of his throat, lingering there, tongue darting out to tease, lave the thrumming pulse, making Mulder jump when he found a particularly sensitive spot--

His hands were everywhere, sliding like silk up Mulder's back, then down and around, fingertips playing tickly little patterns on his belly, then lower, palm cupping, slowly wrapping around Mulder's pulsing erection--

Pulling back, looking down at Mulder, smiling, deep green eyes dancing, sparkling--

Not icy, not sad and remote and alone, not now--

"Alex, I want--"

"I know," he murmured, leaning in for another kiss, "I want it too."

"But...shit, I don't have anything in my bag--"

"S'okay, I've got what we need. Be right back," he said with another quick kiss, getting up, finding his jacket on the floor, rummaging in the pockets a few seconds, then coming back, condoms and tube of lubricant in hand. "Um...want to do it face to face this time?"

"We can do it that way?"

"Sure," he chuckled, ruffling Mulder's hair. "It's nice...in fact, I think you'll like it even better than last time."

"Jesus...you'd better get a coffin ready for me, then..."

He laughed aloud this time, gently grasping Mulder's hips, lifting him up slightly, then grabbing the lubricant, squeezing some onto his fingers, easing first one, then another, into Mulder's tight opening, rotating his wrist until he glided in and out of him in slow, easy strokes--

It felt...incredible, indescribable, but the feeling couldn't go on forever, much as he wanted it to. "C'mon, Alex...if you don't stop that, I'm gonna come before you even get inside me..."

Apparently Alex must've had the same thought, for he rolled a condom on in five seconds flat, lifting up Mulder's legs, wrapping them around his waist, positioning himself, pushing forward until the tip of his erection entered him, making them both gasp--

Mulder closed his eyes, giving himself over to pure sensation, to the wonderfully delicious feeling of being gently, firmly filled full of Alex's hard flesh, long, slow, rocking strokes that made his heart race, threaten to pound right out of his chest, blood thundering in his temples--

And then he suddenly felt Alex leaning down, stretching out flat on top of him, taking his weight on his elbows, lips dusting his own with feathery kisses. "This'd be a lot more fun if you'd open your eyes," he teased, dipping down to nip the curve of Mulder's throat--

"Next time..."

"Unh-uh, now..." And he started moving faster, making Mulder's eyes finally snap open, lengthening, deepening his thrusts, one hand slipping down between them, between their bellies, reaching for Mulder's erection, stroking, milking it--

Making him whimper in the next second as he took the same hand away, fumbling on the bedspread, searching for the lubricant, finding it, squeezing out a squiggle, then pulling up and back slightly, rubbing the cool slickness on Mulder's stiff wand and his own belly--

Coming back down to him, rotating his hips, bucking and plunging as far in as he could possibly go, hips and bellies working, slapping together--

Backs arching, orgasm ripping them both apart at the same time--

Mulder came back to himself some time later, realizing he was now tucked snugly under the covers. Rolling onto his back, he opened one eye a sliver, just enough to notice the room strobing an eerie ice-blue from the TV, Alex idly flipping channels with the remote.

"Hi," Alex said, grinning, leaning in for a kiss as soon as he saw Mulder stirring. "Guess we won't be needing that coffin after all."

"What're you watching?"

"Dunno, it's all in Chinese. I had CNN here a minute ago--"

"Turn it off."

"No way. We're paying for all this, we might as well enjoy it."

"We? It was my credit card, remember?"

"Oh...yeah, sorry..." The room went dark a second later, an arm sliding around Mulder's shoulder, pulling him close, soft, moist lips pressing against his forehead. "Any regrets?"

"You mean, other than the two years we spent apart? Not a one," he replied emphatically, kissing the flat, smooth plane of chest under his cheek.

"You sure? I mean, I can understand if you're having second thoughts--"

"Alex..."

"What?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

* * *

There'd been nothing but ocean, flat black ocean under them for the last five hours, and Mulder'd read every magazine on the plane from cover to cover twice. Reaching up to dim the light, he flung his head back against his seat cushion, willing himself to relax.

"Hey," came Alex's voice from two seats over, "you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, not opening his eyes. Not wanting to open them. "Just a little restless...God, I fucking hate these international flights."

"I know what you mean."

There was silence then, for long, uncounted minutes, the steady whine of the plane's engines lulling Mulder into a light doze--

Until he felt something, something warm and firm touching his right hand, slipping under his palm, tracing the length of his lifeline--

And he snapped awake with a sharp, sudden intake of breath, sitting straight up, jerking his hand back. "What the hell d'you think you're--"

"Jesus, Mulder, calm down. I was just trying to--"

"We're on a fucking plane, for Chrissakes. Keep your hands to yourself."

Alex just stared at him for an endless moment, chuckling bitterly under his breath, shaking his head. "Everybody's asleep, Mulder -- or at least, they were until you woke 'em up," he said, his tone soft, almost whispering. "Nobody saw anything."

"Lucky for you."

"What's that mean? You gonna start beating up on me, right here in front of a hundred-odd witnesses? Try it."

He tried closing his eyes again, but all he saw was red, all he felt was the pulse pounding in his head. God, he couldn't deal with this, not here, not now. Maybe if he could just get back to sleep again he could convince himself this was all a dream, some deranged nightmare he'd gotten lost in, and when he finally opened his eyes he'd be back in his office down in the Bureau basement with Scully and everything would be all right again--

"You think I don't know why you use me for a punching bag every chance you get?" Alex's voice went on, low enough for only the two of them to hear, persistent, relentless. "You fight me, but what you're really fighting's what you can't admit to yourself. Kinda funny, if you think about it -- the psychologist discovering a kink he never knew he had."

"Shut up," he snapped through clenched teeth. "Just shut the fuck up--"

"Face it, Mulder. If we'd only done it once, you could probably get away with chalking it up to curiosity. Twice means you're queer."

He didn't answer, knew he couldn't without shouting or screaming, so he turned, looking out the window, staring down into the flat black abyss stretching out beneath him, stretching into infinity...

He didn't know why he felt so stunned, so twisted up in knots inside. It had all come to him with immediate, startling clarity back in that men's room stall at the Hong Kong Airport -- he'd just been denying it for so long it'd become second nature to him. He wanted what he'd had then, what he'd had last night in that hotel room, wanted the man sitting next to him so badly his body burned with it, even now, even sitting here on this goddamned airplane...

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"H-how old were you when you..?"

"When I what?"

"When you knew for sure..."

"That I was--"

"Yeah." He tore his eyes away from the window then, forced himself to look at the younger man. "If you could tell me...I dunno, maybe it'll help me understand..."

Alex's gaze met his, mouth softening in a little half-smile. "I was fifteen. I remember because it was the summer I went away on vacation with my girlfriend's family for a month, up in the mountains. She was...sweet, blonde, pretty...had a nice smile. The first night we were there we took our sleeping bags out to this clearing and zipped them together and took each other's virginity. It was nice...a little clumsy, but I liked it and so did she. I even had myself halfway convinced I was in love." Chuckling, he paused, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. "A couple days later, her brother arrived. He was twenty years old and built like a Greek god and I took one look at him in his tight blue swimming trunks and I was smitten, though at that point I had absolutely no clue as to what I was feeling and why. I found out a couple nights later, when I went with him to the exact same spot in the woods where I'd gone with his sister...and I, um...lost my virginity again. And that was it. All the alarm bells went off in my head, and that's when I knew."

"Alarm bells..." he murmured, stifling a laugh, "guess that's as good a way of putting it as any."

"You too?"

He nodded.

"Mulder, you...um, haven't been with anyone else in the last two years, have you?"

His mind flashed back briefly to Los Angeles, less than a month after Alex had left him, after he thought he'd lost Scully forever, the sudden, surprisingly raw pain shooting through him like wildfire. "No...nobody that mattered."

"In that case," Alex said softly, "I guess I should be flattered that you saved those alarm bells for me."

And that opened the floodgates. They talked, and kept talking, about their lives, about anything and everything that had happened to them both in the past two years, a hot, stinging pain pooling behind Mulder's eyes when the pilot finally announced they were about to land.

The digital tape was right where Alex said it would be, in a locker at an ice-skating rink--

Along with two passports, one Canadian, one British, both under different names, both bearing Alex's photo.

"Where will you go?" Mulder asked softly.

"Toronto first, then Europe, I think," Alex said, looking down at his hands, then out the car window. "For awhile, anyway. Too dangerous for me in the U.S. right now."

He was right, of course, that Mulder knew beyond a doubt; even this brief respite was probably stretching it. And where Alex was going, he couldn't follow -- not now, anyway...

Reaching in his coat, he pulled out his wallet, taking out all the cash he had, handing it to Alex--

Who stiffened, jaw going tight the instant he saw it. "Mulder, you don't have to--"

"Yeah, I do." All of a sudden, it dawned on him what Alex really meant. "This isn't...payment for anything. Take it. You're gonna need it."

Alex hesitated, then took it, looking away again. "Thanks. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Not necessary."

Neither one of them could think of any immediate follow-up to that.

"Look, um...if you ever need anything -- money or...anything at all, I want you to get in touch with me, okay?"

Alex nodded. "I won't, but...okay. Thanks for the offer."

"I mean it, Alex. I don't want you to have to--"

"S'okay, s'okay, Mulder. It's understood."

They didn't say anything more, just stared out the windshield, both of them, staring into the overcast sky above Dulles Airport.

"I'd better go," Alex said finally, climbing out of the car, shutting the door, walking away, two steps, three steps, four--

Halting, turning back, coming back, opening the door, getting back in. "Toronto'll still be there in the morning," he said, a slow grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "Pick out a hotel, Mulder. Tonight's on me."

\-- END --

 

* * *

 

The characters contained in this story are not mine -- they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Twentieth-Century Fox Broadcasting.   
Rated NC-17 for consensual (?) m/m sex  
Thanks to Carol (not a list member), Anna, Maria and everybody else who's given me such wonderful encouragement on this series. I'm glad you all have liked it so much...  
Song lyrics from "Hold On" by Sarah McLachlan  
Feedback may be sent to:   
Okay to archive to MKRA...

* * *

Fair Play  
by Sugar Rush

//The stitch in his side was a living thing throbbing singing in agony making every breath a gulp of flame--

//And he stumbled fell lay sprawled on the pavement blood seeping from his scraped cheek not getting up not wanting to Jesus all he wanted was to rest just for one fucking minute was that too much to ask--

//But he couldn't and he knew he couldn't had to get up had to get up now--

//And he got up and ran and kept running until he saw it saw his car right where he'd left it--//

//And got in slumping over the wheel fumbling in his pocket for his keys Jesus he couldn't believe it couldn't believe he'd done it put a gun right up against a man's head and pulled the trigger--

//And he jammed the key in the ignition twisted it relief surging through him as the engine spurted started gunned--

//The dashboard clock flashing "12:00" over and over--//

And he snapped awake, sitting bolt upright, an icy fist gripping his throat, heart pumping, jerking like a cracked piston--

God, he hadn't had a nightmare like that since...

Since he'd arrived in Hong Kong, since...had it really been five months ago? Funny, but he usually slept like the dead -- when he managed to sleep at all. Jesus, just being awake in this fucking city was nightmare enough...

He sucked in air, long and deep and slow, closing his eyes until he was sure he could look around without his vision ghosting. One glance at soft fingers of sunlight streaming in through plain white curtains, at pretty, nondescript pictures of flowers hanging there on cream-colored walls and he remembered where he was, not Hong Kong, not anymore--

D.C. A hotel near Dulles Airport, where he'd checked in last night with--

"Alex?" He felt a hand reaching up, fingertips stroking his arm, his shoulder. "You okay?" asked a groggy, scratchy voice.

Mulder's voice. Mulder's eyes, rich, bottomless hazel gazing up at him, heavy-lidded, clouded with drowsiness and concern--

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, sliding back down, dropping onto his pillow with a sigh, darting a look at the clock-radio on the bedside table. Ten after six. "Go on back to sleep. It's early yet..."

But he'd no sooner rolled onto his side when he felt an arm draping around his waist, pulling him close, his back to Mulder's front, spooning them together, Mulder's chin hooked over his shoulder, Mulder's mouth close to his ear, soft breath tickling his skin. He stiffened a moment, then gave himself permission to relax. It felt good, this gentle, easy intimacy they'd drifted into all of a sudden, so he might as well enjoy it...

Until he had to get on that plane to Toronto later today--

No, he wouldn't think about that now...no sense in borrowing tomorrow's misery any sooner than he had to...

They snuggled, warm, floating in that wonderful, hazy half-world between sleep and wakefulness where time dissolved into ether...

He remembered the previous night, a tiny smile curving his lips. They'd checked in, gone down to the hotel restaurant for dinner -- both of them ravenous from fifteen hours in the air and no dinner the night before in Hong Kong -- and then came back up to the room and held each other like this, flipping channels on the TV, too wired for sleep, too tired for sex, finally collapsing, giving in to the inevitable sometime around three or four a.m. Neither of them had minded, though; right now all that mattered was being together...

It wasn't the sunlight that woke him up again, though it was much brighter now, more golden--

No, it was something else, something very warm and solid and insistent pressing into the small of his back, making him grin--

Something very wet, then very sharp teasing, biting his earlobe, making him jump, shudder--

Fingertips tickling his belly, sliding lower, closing around his shaft, cupping, caressing--

"I'll, um...give you 'bout half an hour to stop that," he groaned.

"What makes you think I'll wait that long?" Mulder murmured, giving what he was holding a little squeeze for emphasis--

Shifting slightly, rubbing his own erection against the cleft of Alex's ass--

"Jesus..." Alex hissed, wriggling now, back arching, "you're not playing fair--"

And in the next second, he found himself flipped over onto his back, staring up at Mulder's grinning face swooping down for a kiss, tongues meeting, duelling, delving deep...

He'd almost forgotten how to breathe by the time Mulder drew back, smug triumph glinting gold in his eyes. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Y-you bastard..."

"See if you say that in a couple minutes." And he dived, down to the curve of Alex's throat, lips, tongue tracing every millimeter of silky, heated hollow there, following the line of his collarbone up and over to his shoulder--

Then, finally, down to the flat smoothness of his chest, nipping, suckling each hardening nipple in turn, rolling them between his fingertips--

Kissing, licking a wet path lower, tongue flicking, darting into Alex's navel, just once, just enough to make him gasp and writhe--

"Y-you're s-still a bastard..."

"D'you want me to stop?" he asked, glancing up even as he slid lower, resting one warm cheek against Alex's thigh, close enough for him to feel the soft, maddening whisper of breath wafting, tickling the tip of his own erection. "I will if you tell me to--"

"Fuck you, Mulder--"

"Unh-uh, my turn this time..." And he started kissing, nuzzling, biting the sensitized skin on the inside of Alex's thigh, holding his legs apart with both hands, gently, insistently working his way higher--

Starbursts exploding inside Alex's head as he felt Mulder's tongue painting a squiggly, languorous stripe up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the tip to suck and nibble, teasing the tiny slit there until it wept--

Engulfing him finally, taking him as deeply as he could with his first lunge, teeth rasping, dragging slightly on the upstroke--

And Alex began thrashing, gouging his heels deep in the mattress, twisting the plain white sheets so hard he knew he had to be shredding them, not caring--

Nothing else existed now, nothing but this mouth working him like a blade wrapped in wet satin--

Jesus, he was close...so fucking close to the edge if he shut his eyes he could taste it, see it right there in front of him--

And suddenly it stopped, warm, insistent suckling abruptly moving off and away, impending orgasm unraveling like a ball of string pitched across the floor--

"What the hell'd you do that for?" he choked, eyes snapping open, delayed heat breaking out, flooding him, crawly little bullets of it swarming under his skin. "Goddamn it, Mulder, finish what you start--"

"Oh, I intend to," he answered, all calm, silky monotone, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Get up and turn around. I want you on your knees."

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. Do it."

He stared up at the other man for an endless moment, brain whirling. They'd never done it this way before, at least not with Mulder on top -- but then, he'd never seemed interested in taking the lead until now. The notion gave Alex pause; he hadn't been bottom man -- not willingly, anyway -- since he was a teenager. What he'd had to do in Hong Kong didn't count; that had been for survival, not pleasure--

And this was for Mulder, and for himself, for the last time in a long time, for memories that would have to sustain them both for months, maybe even years...

Turning over, he raised himself up on his knees, surprised by how shaky he suddenly felt, nearly slipping then catching himself, bracing himself with both palms pressed to the wall right above the headboard, tossing his pillow aside when his still-throbbing erection kept prodding it. Hanging his head, he dragged in air, slow, ragged gouts of it, willing the thunder roaring in his temples to ease, nerves raw, afire, waiting for Mulder to take him, dimly hearing the tiny crackle of ripping foil--

Gasping when he felt warm, moist lips brushing the nape of his neck, his head tilting back of its own accord, offering up his throat like some wild animal submitting to its master's will--

Submitting with complete, soul-stripping abandon, welcoming the lube-slicked fingers spreading him wide, probing, opening him, a hot jolt searing, shooting up his spine--

"Y-you, um...don't have to do that..." he half-whispered, half-sobbed, hands and arms trembling so much now he almost slid down the wall.

"I don't want to hurt you--"

"You won't, I'm used to it...just put a little extra lube on the condom and it should be okay..."

Mulder moved away for a few seconds, then came back, repositioning himself, the tip of his erection poised right where it needed to be, giving a small push, just enough to gain entry, both of them crying out as it happened--

Momentum suddenly carrying them forward as Mulder draped himself over Alex's back, mouth close to his ear, sliding halfway in with one deep stroke, slowly starting to move--

God, he felt enormous, a huge iron club plowing him open, faster now, breaking him, stretching him out on a rack, on that endless, delirious knife's edge between pain and pleasure--

Driving in like a jackhammer, one hand closing over Alex's on the wall, fingers entwining, nails digging into his palm--

His other hand traveling down, over Alex's belly, lower, cupping, rolling the soft sac beneath his pulsing erection--

Drawing almost all the way out of Alex at the exact same instant, just the tip of him remaining inside, slippery, trembling, teasing--

"You want this? You want me?" Mulder taunted, hot, humid breath assaulting Alex's ear, making him groan, writhe, struggle in vain against this body holding him down, holding him prisoner--

Sudden moisture spilling down his face, his neck, not knowing or caring if it was sweat or tears--

"Jesus, Mulder...just do it...finish it..."

"Unh-uh, you don't get to come until I hear you say it. Until I hear you beg for it."

"Y-you're fucking kidding me..."

"Beg for it or I'm stopping right now."

He tried, but the only sound that would come out of him was a strangled whimper. God, oh God, he felt like he'd swallowed a handful of white-hot coals, and they were burning him up, eating straight through him from the inside out, any second now he'd go up in a cloud of spontaneous combustion...

"Please..." he rasped, voice thready, barely there, "please..."

"Please what?"

"Fuck me, Mulder...do it now..."

"Now?" he echoed, tongue lashing Alex's earlobe, catching it between his teeth, "you sure you want it now?"

"Yes...God, yes..."

And he pushed back in, all the way in with a chest-rattling sigh, lying flat against Alex's back again, Alex bending forward on his own, trying to ease the angle of entry, help them find their rhythm together--

And they did, Mulder's arm looping around Alex, around his waist, holding him still and steady as he sped up, making sure every stroke raked over Alex's prostate, friction and heat kicking both their pulses into overdrive--

The one in Alex's head, drumming, thundering, igniting his brain, and the one driving into him, deep into him--

And the one he could feel there against his back, pounding out of Mulder's chest, both of them faltering, crying out, convulsing at that precise same moment, wet silkiness splashing Alex's belly and chest--

And suddenly he couldn't keep his grip on the wall anymore, tumbling to the mattress, rolling onto his side, taking Mulder with him, still joined, sweaty and sticky, chests heaving like a pair of marathon runners...

He didn't pass out, or even drift off, but it still took awhile before his brain could form enough coherent thought to let him speak again. "You really are a bastard," he mumbled, smiling, twisting his head to find Mulder's mouth still close by--

He leaned in for a kiss, but Mulder pulled back a millisecond before their lips met, rolling off onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his expression blank, impassive.

"Something wrong?" Alex asked, turning over, propping himself up on one elbow, one hand reaching over to stroke Mulder's shoulder--

Grimacing, Mulder shrugged off his touch, still saying nothing.

"Why'd you do that?"

"C'mon, Alex, lay off. I'm not in the mood anymore--"

"That's not what I meant." Hazel eyes floated shut a moment, finally gazing up in his direction. "Why'd you treat me like that when we were--"

"You complaining?"

"No," he replied softly, "just asking for an explanation. I mean, if I'd known that's how you like it, we could've done it that way before--"

"Well, now you know," he cut in, sitting up, swinging both legs over the side of the bed, one hand rubbing through his hair. "By the way, Alex...anybody ever told you you talk in your sleep?"

Something in his voice, the flat, utter inflectionlessness of it, sent an immediate, bone-shattering chill right through him. "Wh-what'd I say?"

"Enough to get me remembering something else you said...the other night in Hong Kong." Looking down, he picked out a flowery pattern on the comforter, tracing it with one fingertip. "You said my father was getting ready to tell me everything...and that if he had, you would've had to kill me *too.*"

"Mulder, I--"

And then he glanced up, hazel eyes locking on green, gold highlights glinting like razor-sharp shards of ice. "You did it, didn't you? You killed my father. You pulled the trigger."

No retreat now, no escape. He knew. There was nothing else to do but come clean. "The old man told me to...had me follow you to your father's house that night. I broke in, waited in the bedroom...actually, I never thought I was gonna have to kill anybody. The state you were in, I was expecting you to off your father, then shoot yourself. I'd only planned to step in and stop you if you tried."

"So you went there with the express intention of defying your orders? Why does that sound less than plausible?"

"Look, I heard what your father was saying to you. You think the old man would've hesitated ordering your death if he'd finished? That wasn't...an alternative I was prepared to face."

"So you did it," Mulder repeated. 

Silence.

"Say it. Say you did it. I want to hear it."

"Yeah," he rasped finally, the word torn from a place deep in his chest. "I did it. I shot him. You happy now?"

"Scully's sister. You do her too?"

"God, Mulder, don't you ever fucking give up--"

"Answer me."

"What difference does it make what I say? You've already made up your mind."

Mulder's only reply was to get up, grab his clothes off the chair he'd thrown them in last night, and start dressing, quickly, silently.

Alex stared, watching him numbly, a sick, metallic taste filling his mouth. "S-so why'd you fuck me if you...if you already believed I did it?"

"To see if I could."

"What?"

"To see if I could make myself do it...make myself fuck the man who'd killed my father. Make you beg for it the same way you made me beg for it the night before you left two years ago." He was buttoning his shirt now, not bothering to tuck it in his slacks, grabbing his jacket, heading for the door. "Thanks for the experience, Alex. Guess you could say it's been educational."

He didn't know how long he lay there, staring at the back of the door, the sharp echo of its closing reverberating inside his head. Finally he flung an arm over his eyes, dragging in deep breaths, trying to quell the knot forming in his chest, the instant, overwhelming sensation of being crushed.

Somehow he managed to master it, swallow it all down, sitting up, his gaze drawn to the window, to the golden-white light pouring in through it. Another day. Another place to go... 

A plane to Toronto with his name on it. Now if he could just remember which name that was... 

He didn't want anybody calling him Alex again anytime soon.  
                      

* * *

Hold on  
Hold on to yourself  
For this is gonna hurt like hell  
Hold on  
Hold on to yourself  
You know that only time can tell

What is it in me that refuses to believe  
This isn't easier than the real thing...

He reached over and flicked off the radio with a disgusted sigh, flopping back onto the couch, shifting restlessly for a minute or so, finally grabbing the TV remote. He'd thought the music would help clear his head, help him drift off, but it hadn't... 

Nothing had. He'd gotten home a couple hours ago, forced himself to choke down some food, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, then, feeling suddenly, incredibly exhausted, had sacked out here on the couch, thinking he'd drop off in a few minutes, like he usually did--

No such luck. And here he was, irritated, frustrated as hell, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks, idly wondering if they were part of some arcane code he'd yet to decipher--

Almost tumbling to the floor when the phone's ring abruptly split the silence. He lunged for the receiver on the third ring, fingers trembling as he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Mulder, it's me. Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to get in touch with you for two days."

Scully. Jesus, he hadn't even called her yet. Hadn't even thought of calling her--

No, that wasn't true. He had thought of it -- for about five seconds, then he'd shunted the notion aside, probably because he couldn't think of a damn thing to say to her. Nothing she'd understand anyway--

"Mulder?"

"Sorry, I...um, had my cell phone turned off. Just got back in a little while ago--"

"From Hong Kong?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Well, did you find anything there?"

Should he tell her? Part of him wanted to, and part of him wanted to find the deepest darkest hole in this hemisphere and crawl down inside it forever... "Yeah, I guess you could say I found something..."

Another pause, short and telling this time, just long enough for him to get a perfect mental picture of her rolling her eyes. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to start pulling teeth?"

"I found Krycek."

"Krycek? What was he doing there?"

"Improving international relations."

"What?"

"Look, could we talk about this some other--"

"So where is he now?" she persisted.

"Huh?"

"Well, you brought him back in custody, didn't you?"

He sucked in a breath, rubbing, blinking his eyes, trying to get rid of the burning sting that had started behind them; this was going to be even harder to explain than he thought. "Um, yeah...sort of."

"Sort of?" she repeated.

He didn't answer.

"Where is he, Mulder?"

"Probably halfway to Toronto by now."

"Are you saying you let him *go*?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying," he snapped. "Now just give it a fucking rest, okay?"

This time the silence went on so long he wasn't even sure she was still there. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "You can tell me."

And that did it. The dam inside him cracked, burst, clogging his nose and throat, cutting off his air. "Scully, I can't...I don't know how or why it happened, but it did...and I don't know how to tell you without making you hate me..."

"Mulder, I could never hate you--"

"Yes, you could. If you heard this, you could."

A tiny pause, and then, "Mulder, listen to me. I'm coming over right now. Just sit tight until I get there, okay?"

"Scully, no, don't come over--"

Click.

He stared at the receiver, then finally hung it up, slumping forward, face buried in his hands--

And then the smell hit him -- the acrid, pungent scent of his own body odor, and something else, something thicker, spicier--

Alex's scent. Alex's and his mixed together, spinning his brain, whirling it back to that morning, flashing an instant aching image of the two of them before his eyes, joined and sweaty and straining--

The scent of sex, simple but sure as hell not pure--

And if Scully got a good whiff of him, all further questions would be rendered moot.

He stripped and showered in less than ten minutes, the warm water calming, steadying him, toweling off, tugging on a fresh pair of jeans and clean t-shirt just as he heard Scully's key twisting in the front door lock.

"Hi," she said, both of them entering the kitchen at the same time, indicating her key, "I didn't want you to have to get up."

He shrugged, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.

"Want some tea?" she asked, dumping her purse on the kitchen table. "I do, if you don't mind."

"Sure, go ahead."

Apparently taking that as a yes on his part, she put the kettle on, got down two cups and filled them as soon as the kettle whistled, coming over to where he was sitting at the table, setting a steaming cup down in front of him, pulling the other chair out for herself.

They sat in silence for awhile, staring at the misty curls wafting up from their cups. "Tell me," she prompted.

"It...um, goes back a long way. I'm not sure where to start."

"Wherever you want. I'm listening."

So he started, haltingly at first, going back to the beginning, to his partnership with Alex two years earlier, taking it from there, omitting the more explicit details, yet leaving no doubt about the true nature of their relationship, then or now--

He didn't look at her again until he was finished, until all the words had evaporated into the air just like the steam from their cups. She gazed back at him with that same rock-steady seriousness he'd come to expect from her over the past three years, leaning forward, one hand half-covering her mouth, elbow propped on the table, taking her time before she spoke again.

"My God, Mulder...why didn't you tell me before? To think you've been carrying all this guilt around with you since--"

"Somehow I didn't think you'd appreciate hearing that I'd been fucking the guy who killed your sister."

"But he didn't."

"What? How do you know?"

"Because they apprehended Melissa's shooter last night, when he tried shooting Skinner in a diner downtown. Pendrell showed me the PCR results, and they were an exact match."

"Oh, Jesus..." he breathed, mind spinning, half-relieved, half-sick. "Skinner? Is he--"

"He's fine. The bullet grazed him, but didn't cause any serious damage. He's coming back to work tomorrow."

"No thanks to me. That shooter's probably another one of Cancerman's thugs, tying up loose ends--"

"Mulder, stop," she said softly, eyes closing a moment. "Stop beating yourself up. Whatever happened's happened. It's done. In fact, I can't help feeling responsible for some of this myself."

"Why? You didn't do anything."

"Exactly," she replied. "I mean, I wasn't really...there for you after I was...returned. You were all torn up about something, I could tell, but I was so preoccupied with my own...issues, recovery, whatever you want to call it, that I didn't feel I could or should reach out to you. But maybe if I had, you would've told me about what had happened with you and Alex...and maybe you wouldn't have felt so alone all this time, and be having so much pain now."

"I couldn't have told you then; it hurt too much, and I think all I wanted to do at that point was bury it, forget about it. And then, after what happened with my father, then Melissa...I was afraid you'd hate me. I was afraid of...a lot of things."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. It's called being human." This time she smiled, reaching for his hand across the table. "And I'd be a pretty awful person, I think, if I hated you for doing the most human thing of all -- falling in love."

He'd been half-slumped in his chair, but that made him sit straight up. "I'm not in love with him--"

"You should have heard yourself, Mulder, heard the words you used when you were talking about him, about being with him. If you'd used those exact same words about a woman, I'd say you had it bad...and still do."

"Scully..."

"And I wouldn't think that someone with a doctorate in psychology would need me to explain this to him," she teased.

He couldn't help grinning a little at that. "How'd you get so worldly wise all of a sudden?"

"Sometimes we can't help who we fall in love with," she murmured, looking away, down at her hands for a moment. "Forgive yourself, Mulder, and maybe someday you'll be able to forgive Alex. And now," she added, gesturing for him to get up, "what you need is sleep. Doctor's orders."

"Scully, I can put myself to bed. Been doing it for years--"

"Shut up and get in there, Mulder."

He knew an immovable object when he butted heads with it. Sighing, he trudged into the bedroom, pulling off his t-shirt, stopping when he saw Scully there in the doorway. "You want to help with this too?"

"I'll sit out here on the couch till you're asleep, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem."

Weariness spread out over him like a lead blanket the second he lay down, weighting his limbs, pressing him into the mattress. He let himself surrender to it, eyes floating shut, mind fogging, listening to the sound of the radio playing softly again, wafting in through the half-open door...

Oh God if you're out there won't you hear me I know we've never talked before And oh God the man I love is leaving Won't you take him when he comes to your door...

Am I in Heaven here or am I in Hell At the crossroads where I'm standing...

So now you're sleeping peaceful and I lie awake and pray That you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll see another day And we will praise it The love the light that brings a smile to your face...

Love. Scully had spoken of that, and of forgiveness. She'd forgiven him, thank God...forgiven him for everything. She'd understood, without reservation, without judgment... 

He supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised. He'd given her nothing but grief over their past three years of partnership, and she'd always forgiven him, never taking him to task even when she'd had ample reason to, even when he took off and ditched her, just like he had a couple days ago in California...

And she hadn't even mentioned it. Jesus... 

Maybe Scully was right. Maybe he should try to forgive...forgive himself, forgive Alex... 

Yeah, maybe...just maybe, given time, it could happen... 

But he didn't want to think about that now. All he wanted was to sleep, to forget about everything for awhile...

He drifted off with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, thinking of another smile, one that could light up the New York skyline...

Of silky black hair, and deep green eyes.

\-- END --

 

* * *

 

The characters contained in this story ain't mine -- they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Twentieth-Century Fox Broadcasting. And if they knew what I was doing with them, they'd have me hanged, drawn and quartered...and then they'd get mean...  
Thanks again to Carol (not a list member), Anna, Miriam, Leigh and everybody on and off the list who's made such wonderful comments about my previous stories in this series. Until further notice, this is the last one -- until I get an idea for another series...  
I'm not sure whether I'll need to break this up into two or three parts to upload it, but the next sections will be posted as soon as they're finished being beta-read.  
As usual, feedback may be addressed to:   
Rated NC-17 for consensual m/m sex, though that doesn't actually occur until part two. However, we do get a couple nice kisses...well, one, at least...and lots of angst!!  
Takes place in the aftermath of "Pusher." No real spoilers...

* * *

Intersections  
by Sugar Rush

She gazed out the car window into the darkness, watching blurred shapes pass by, so exhausted she could barely think.

Not that she even wanted to, anyway. Tomorrow would have to be good enough for that. Swallowing a sigh, she stole a furtive glance at the car's driver.

Her partner. The only person in the world she trusted without question or hesitation. The only person she would willingly lay down her life for. She'd come close to it today. So had he.

It hadn't been the first time for either of them. It was a risk they took every day. It's what partners did. All in the line of duty.

But this time had felt different. Not like doing what duty required of them. This time had felt like...

//Like sacrifice...

//Like suicide...//

Her mind acknowledged silently what she couldn't bring herself to verbalize to Mulder when they'd stood there together at Modell's bedside. She supposed she should have felt some kind of compassion for Modell at that point, but all she'd wanted to do was seize him by the throat and strangle what little life he had left out of him.

She hadn't realized she had it in her to hate somebody so completely. But she did. She hated Modell, hated the son-of-a-bitch for what he'd done to Mulder. For making Mulder put that gun to his head and pull the trigger.

For making Mulder want to pull the trigger. And he had wanted it. She'd seen it there, right there in those tortured, intense hazel eyes. At that moment in time, he'd wanted to die.

Maybe that part hadn't been Modell at all.

"We're home, Scully."

She started, shaking her head, so wrapped up in her own reverie that she hadn't even noticed Mulder pulling up in front of her apartment building, switching off the lights and ignition.

"You okay?" he asked with a tentative touch on her arm.

She finally forced herself to look at him, nodding. "Want to come in for a few minutes? I'll make coffee."

He rubbed a hand over his face, then just stared out the windshield, shaking his head. "I, um...no. That's not such a great idea right now."

"Mulder, we need to talk--"

"No, we don't," he replied, his voice flat, toneless, hollow. "There's nothing to talk about. File your report with Skinner, and I'll file mine."

"Mulder--"

"And while you're at it, file your request for a transfer to another unit."

All she could do was gape at him, stunned, frozen, not comprehending. Not wanting to. "Y-you aren't serious--"

"Damn right I am. Hand in your paperwork and get out. I want you to."

"No."

"What?"

"N-O. Which part didn't you understand?"

"Goddamn it, Scully, will you just do what I say for once--"

"Forget it," she snapped, grabbing the door latch, "I'm not sitting here listening to this for another second--"

And suddenly a python's grip closed over her wrist, yanking her back down into her seat. "I almost got you fucking killed today," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I already got your sister killed. No more. Everyone who matters to me dies, Scully. I'm not adding you to the list."

"You can't blame yourself for Melissa. It wasn't your fault--"

"Bullshit. You can't tell me she wouldn't still be alive now if you weren't my partner."

"I don't hold you responsible."

"I do."

Silence fell, so thick and heavy it felt like she was trying to breathe soup. He let go of her wrist then, turning away, staring out the windshield again, eyes deep and fathomless, shining with pain...

It was all there, Modell and Tooms and Donnie Pfaster and every other case they'd worked on together in the past three years--

All the guilt for everything he'd ever put her through, for her abduction and Melissa and today and yesterday and last month and all the tomorrows he didn't want to face--

And Alex. More than anything else, for Alex...

Her hand cupped his cheek before even she realized what she was doing, turning his face toward her, leaning forward--

"Don't shut me out, Mulder," she murmured, so close now she could feel soft warmth on her cheek, the side of her throat, "please..."

And their lips met, brushed, moist and gentle--

And he pulled back in the next instant, mouth hovering scant millimeters from hers, breath coming in rapid, jerky spurts--

"Mulder, what's the matter--"

"I-I c-can't do this...I'm sorry..."

"But--"

"Let go of me. *Now.*"

Stung, she broke away, going suddenly, completely numb, nerveless, one hand flying to her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips, not sure whether she should be relieved at finding them still there.

"Oh, Jesus...oh, sweet Jesus," he kept repeating, running a hand through his hair, swallowing so hard she thought he'd choke himself. "Scully, I-I won't lie to you, I'm tempted, but...it wouldn't be fair, I'd just be using you--"

"What, to help forget we both almost died today?" she half-snapped. "There's nothing terrible in wanting that--"

"No...I'd be doing it to prove to myself that Hong Kong and that hotel near Dulles airport and two years ago didn't mean anything..."

"Mulder..."

"I'd be doing it to try and make myself forget I ever fucked and sucked another guy and bent over and took his cock up my own ass and..." --his voice broke, splintered, but only for a second -- "I'd be doing it to make myself forget I loved every second of it."

His language made her flinch inside, but she tamped down the reaction. He was purposely trying to repulse her, make her turn away from him in disgust. Well, it wasn't going to work. She was his partner, damn it, and she'd stuck by him through worse than this...

She was his partner, and he was hers, and right now her own feelings didn't matter. This was Mulder, who'd sooner put a bullet through his own head than shoot her...and now he was hurting, and he needed her...

And now that the initial shock of the experience had had a chance to recede, she could see she had no real reason to feel rejected -- in fact, quite the opposite. This was his way of protecting her, of keeping them both from making a rash mistake in a moment of mutual vulnerability, maybe even destroying their friendship in the process...

And the kiss itself had felt so odd -- sweet, but cool at the same time, tentative, curious--

Chaste -- that was the word she was looking for. A gesture of affection and comfort, not passion--

Sort of like kissing her older brother.

She bit back a chuckle. Well, she'd always wondered how it'd feel to lock lips with her partner. And now she knew. Now she knew...

It didn't change how she felt about him -- she loved him, always had, always would, just as she knew he would always love her. It was something that had grown between them, slowly and gradually, from the first case they'd worked on together.

Now it was just...there, evident in everything they said and did. Partners, comrades, backing each other up, going to the wall if necessary, without question, without hesitation...

Accepting each other, and everything about each other, in exactly the same way.

"It's okay, Mulder," she said quietly, hoping he didn't notice the tinge of mingled sadness and regret in her tone, rubbing his shoulder. "It's all okay...in fact, if you want to pretend it never happened, it's fine with me."

"Y-you mean you're not...um, I mean--" The pain in his expression was so raw, so palpable she could feel her heart clench in response.

"I know what you mean, and no, I'm not. Offended, I mean."

"But--"

"How could I be offended by something that never happened?"

Apparently he knew when to concede defeat, for his only reply was a sheepish grin.

She clasped his hand for a moment, opening the door at the same time. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you at the office in the morning, okay?"

"Okay. And Scully..."

"What?"

"I still want you to file for that transfer."

He didn't give her a chance to reply, jerking the car door closed and locking it, though not driving away until she reached the well-lit front porch of her apartment building--

And she stood there, watching, until his taillights faded to blurred, ghostly pinpricks behind her eyes.

                     * * *

His key jammed in the front door lock. At first he thought it was because he was so fucking tired he'd stuck it in the wrong way--

Then he saw something lodged inside the keyhole, something shiny, like metal, something shoved in there to force the lock--

And the door was already yawning open.

Drawing his gun, sending the door crashing back against the wall, he swept the kitchen, then the living room--

Nobody there, and no signs of any apparent search -- everything was as he'd left it this morning, all the way down to the coasterless coffee mug leaving yet another milky circle on the table in front of the couch--

He took a step back, two, then three, nose crinkling, assailed by a sharp, queasy epiphany--

The room smelled like a fistful of old pennies.

And his shoes were sticking to the floor.

Glancing down, lifting up one foot, he could see why -- thick, half-congealed droplets dotting the floor, smearing the sole of his shoe, a blackish trail leading all the way from the front door--

Into the bedroom.

The bedroom door was open too, and he holstered his gun, part of him knowing what he'd find there before he saw it, right there on the bed--

A crumpled heap sprawled lengthwise across the mattress, face pushed into the covers--

"Alex...Jesus Christ, Alex..." he breathed, three steps taking him to the bed, shaking the other man's leather-jacketed shoulder--

His hand coming away slicked with blood--

Blood that had already coated the entire left side of Alex's body from shoulder to thigh, soaking his clothes, seeping into the sheets--

//What the hell's going on he's supposed to be in Toronto or Europe--

//Not lying here in my bed bleeding to death--//

Panic closed around him, squeezing him in its greedy fist, but he fought it off, kneeling on the bed beside Alex, putting two fingers to his throat--

And it was there, a pulse, weak and thready and sluggish, but still there--

But his skin felt clammy, chill, like half-congealed wax...

Pulling off his coat and jacket, he got out his cell phone and hit the speed dial, then lay down beside Alex, curling around him, spooning him, his back to Alex's front, trying to keep him warm.

She was there in less than half an hour, letting herself in when he didn't answer her knock, barely breaking her stride when she entered the bedroom, her intense blue gaze taking in the whole scene in an instant. "How'd this happen?" she asked, taking off her coat, throwing it over the back of a nearby chair.

"I, um...don't know," Mulder replied, rising from the bed to give her room to work. "He's been unconscious since I found him."

She knelt, taking the pulse in Alex's throat, then his left wrist, her hand trailing lightly up his injured arm. "Well, here's the reason he's still alive," she said, slipping a fingertip under a wide leather strip the exact same color as his jacket, "he used his belt as a tourniquet."

//God no this isn't happening can't be happening it's just another part of the nightmare just like this afternoon just like Modell making me shove that fucking gun in Scully's face...//

He let his eyes drift closed for a second, just a second, red and blue and green and every other color in the rainbow crashing, converging in his head, exploding, burning, unraveling--

"Mulder."

He wasn't sure if it was the sound of her voice or the soft touch of her hand on his arm, but he snapped back to reality with a sharp intake of breath, eyes locking on hers. "Wh-what?"

"He's got a gunshot wound to his upper arm, but I won't be able to ascertain the extent of the injury until I can get these clothes off him," she said slowly, softly, pausing a moment, looking at him intently. "I'm going to need your help, Mulder. You okay with that?"

The thought of standing there watching as she probed Alex's wound made his gut twist, but he forced himself to nod. "Sure, I-I'm...okay, I'm fine with it. What d'you need?"

"Go change into some clean clothes, then bring me a basin of warm water and some towels and a pair of scissors. And some hydrogen peroxide, if you have it."

Her words made him glance down, run one hand across the front of his shirt, the cotton growing stiff with Alex's drying blood. The top half of his pants were covered in it too, and he hadn't even noticed.

Luckily, he had a pair of jeans and a t-shirt hanging on the back of his bathroom door, and he pulled them on, then dug out what Scully'd said she needed, padding back into the bedroom as quickly as possible.

They got the belt off, but unfortunately, the scissors weren't up to their task -- they sliced through Alex's plain white t-shirt with no problem, but the jacket was hopeless. "Lift him up," she said finally, mouth taking on a grim set, "and I'll pull it off him."

They got it off his uninjured arm easily, but his left arm was another story, coagulated blood gluing cotton and leather to Alex's skin. Scully soaked a towel in the warm water and, working with painstaking patience, managed to loosen the jacket enough to slide it off Alex's arm--

And Alex's eyelids fluttered, flew open at that exact same moment, a groan welling deep in his chest. "J-Jesus, what the hell're you..."

"S'okay, Alex," Mulder said, relief sweeping him, though one look from Scully was enough to put a momentary damper on it, "I'm here, and so's Scully. We're gonna take care of you."

"H-how long..??"

"Were you out?" Scully prompted. "We're not sure. Do you remember when you got here?"

"Um...mid-afternoon, I think, the sun was still out..."

Mulder's eyes met Scully's for a second, then she returned to the job at hand, opening the bottle of peroxide, dumping some into the basin, soaking the clean end of her towel in it. "Where'd you get shot?" she asked.

"In the arm, looks like..."

This time she gave Mulder a 'he's-been-hanging-out-with-you-too-long' look as she wrung out the towel, one corner of her mouth quirking up, but saying nothing else.

Apparently Alex took the stony silence as a cue to continue. "I... um, wandered into this little Mom-and-Dad convenience store and...found myself on the wrong end of somebody else's gun...guy was a good fuckin' shot, I'll give him that...didn't even know I was hit till I was half a mile away with black spots floatin' in front of my eyes..."

"Half a mile?" she repeated. "You *ran* half a mile with this kind of injury?"

"Naw, I had a car...it's parked a few blocks down the road...walked from there..."

"Dripping blood all the way," she replied under her breath. Mulder heard her, but he was pretty sure Alex hadn't. "This'll sting a little," she said aloud this time, dabbing the peroxide-soaked towel right above Alex's wound, right where his t-shirt still stuck to his skin--

"Jeeessusss..." Alex hissed, clawing the sheets, calming a little as Mulder began softly stroking his hair, green eyes glancing upward, intense, grateful, throbbing with agony. "Just cut off the whole fuckin' thing...make it easier on both of us..."

"It's off," she said, cloth peeling away, revealing a pair of dark punctures still slowly oozing blood--

"I meant the arm..."

She examined him quickly, efficiently, then started cleaning the wounds, wincing a bit herself at the obvious pain she couldn't help causing. "Take it easy, I won't prolong this any more than I have to."

It was too much to watch anymore, almost too much to bear. Mulder looked away, concentrating on Alex, green eyes now clamped shut, welcoming the touch of the younger man's hand, fingers entwining, squeezing with bone-crushing pressure, his own heart lurching at the sight of him gnawing his lower lip so hard it bled, yet not uttering another sound as Scully worked on him.

She sat back on her heels when she finally finished, sweeping away a stray lock of hair. "You're lucky -- you've lost a good amount of blood, but apparently only from tissue trauma -- the bullet seems to have passed through cleanly, without nicking the bone or any major blood vessels. I think all we need to do now is stitch up the wounds and get you some antibiotics. And the first part'll be much easier if you can make it to the bathroom."

Alex hesitated, then nodded, raising himself on his right arm, Mulder's own arm looping around Alex's back, helping him to his feet, then, seeing how weak and wobbly the blood loss had made him, letting Alex lean on him, both of them hobbling to the bathroom.

Jesus, it felt so damned good to hold him, even like this, so good feeling the slow, steady thump of his heart pressed against his own chest, soft breath so sweet and near, feathering his own skin, spinning his mind back to Hong Kong, to two years ago--

To that hotel near Dulles Airport less than a month ago, the last time they'd made love, the first time he'd made love to Alex--

No, it hadn't been making love. It had been fucking, pure and simple, him fucking Alex, using him like a whore, punishing him--

For the two years they'd spent apart, for his father and Scully's sister, for everything else that had ever gone wrong in his whole miserable fucking life--

And the hell of it was, it didn't matter. None of it did. Scully'd said it herself, that night he'd finally told her about him and Alex -- it was over, done with. Time to put it behind him, time to move on...

Time to forgive.

He flicked on the bathroom light with his free hand, letting go of Alex as he caught hold of the edge of the sink to steady himself, grinning shakily. "You okay?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah...I'd be great if somebody'd stop ramming that red-hot poker through my arm...and using my head for a bass drum..."

"C'mere, sit down," Mulder said, flipping down the toilet lid--

And suddenly Alex was right there beside him, mouth too close to his, hand searching, finding the exact spot on his throat that never failed to drive him insane, thumb splayed gently over his cheek, caressing, stroking--

"You c'mere. I need something to make me feel better..." he whispered, drawing Mulder closer, mouths barely touching, silky, delicate as butterfly wings beating together--

Breaking apart at the sharp, sudden tap of Scully's footsteps moving toward the bathroom door--

But if she had any inkling of what'd just happened, it wasn't evident in her expression or her demeanor. "I called in prescriptions for an antibiotic and a painkiller to that drug store down the street," she said. "They're in your name, Mulder, so you may as well go get them."

"I, um...sure..." He hesitated, still half-reeling from the kiss, but the look Alex shot him had him out the door, out of the apartment, down the hallway to the elevator in thirty seconds flat.

//Jesus what the fuck's wrong with you...you were standing next to your goddamned toilet kissing a guy covered in blood...kissing *Alex* for Chrissakes...with Scully on the phone in the next fucking room...//

Dragging in air, he punched the button for the garage, letting his head fall back against the elevator wall. For a second he eyed the stop button, seriously considering marching back upstairs and telling Scully to go pick up her own fucking prescriptions, he wasn't leaving Alex, goddamn it--

But he didn't. This was what he needed -- needed desperately, in fact...to get away for a few minutes, get his head clear again--

Though he doubted it'd stay clear for very long.

\-------------

* * *

"Tell me what really happened, Alex."

She was giving him that look -- that 'mess-with-me-and-I'll-smash -your-teeth-in' look that somehow managed to be completely serene and matter-of-fact, yet deadly serious all at the same time. Accent on 'deadly'...

"We both know that convenience-store story was a lie," she continued.

"*We* do?"

"The angle of the wounds, the powder burns on your jacket...obviously self-inflicted. Mulder would've noticed it himself if he hadn't been so upset." She paused, waiting for him to say something, but when he didn't, she went on. "I didn't see any blood in the elevator or the hallway, so I'm betting you climbed up the service stairs, shot yourself there, then pitched your gun down the stairwell."

Silence.

"So which was it, Alex -- were you trying to kill yourself or just making a play for Mulder's sympathy?"

He still didn't say anything. She was starting to get noticeably irritated which, oddly enough, wasn't making him feel any better.

"Well, if it was the latter, you're either a very good shot or a very fortunate one, because if that bullet had hit you any lower, you'd be dead or minus an arm right now."

He shrugged as best he could with one shoulder. She'd nailed him; no point in denying it now. "You gonna tell him?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Sit down and we'll talk about it."

He did, his gaze drawn to a small black case she was pulling from her pocket, unzipping, revealing several neat little rows of needles in various sizes, and spools of thread in various colors. She emptied out the bloody water from the basin she'd brought with her from the bedroom, pouring peroxide into it now, selecting one of the longer needles from the case, dropping it into the basin.

"Y-you're kidding me, right?" he asked, eyes widening. "Oh, you gotta be...you're not gonna stitch me up with your fucking sewing kit..."

"If you'd prefer me to drop you off at the nearest emergency room, I'd be happy to."

That wasn't an option, and they both knew it. If he showed up at a hospital, the old man'd have no problem tracking him down.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Just do it, okay?"

"I want to know one thing first."

"What?"

"Melissa."

The name sent a hot jolt jagging through him, fresh knives of agony lancing his wound.

"You were there, weren't you?" she persisted.

He ducked his head, half-nodding, throat suddenly closing up.

"Might as well tell me your side of it, Alex. I already know your friend Luis's version."

That made him sit straight up. "Y-you've got Luis--"

"*Had* Luis, until somebody murdered him in his jail cell," she said coolly, measuring some plain white thread, breaking it off, starting to thread the needle. "But he'd already named you as his accomplice."

He dragged in a breath, tried to look at her, found he couldn't. "Look, it wasn't supposed to happen the way it...we went to your apartment to look for the digital tape. The old man said Mulder'd given it to you, but...soon as we got there, we heard somebody at the door. Luis had his gun out before I could stop him, and then...it was all over."

She didn't say anything for so long he looked up just to make sure she was still there. "Does Mulder..?" he asked.

"No," she replied softly, "in fact, I told him you had nothing to do with it."

Genuine relief crashed, sluiced over him. "Thanks."

"I didn't do it for you. Turn this way, please," she said, coming toward him with the needle.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering, though the needle dragging through his skin and flesh was burning, prickling hell incarnate. Luckily, though, it only took a few stitches on each side of his arm to close the wounds, and she moved away to cut strips of gauze for a dressing.

God, he couldn't believe her -- here she was, patching him up -- after he'd just admitted he'd helped kill her sister, for Chrissakes -- face a calm, impassive mask, like this was something she did every day--

Her glance suddenly meeting his, straight on, unwavering--

"You fucking hate me, don't you, Scully?" he asked, not expecting an answer, not getting one. "You hated me on sight from the first time we met at Quantico. Afraid I'd steal your man even back then, huh?"

"He's not *my* man--"

"Not anymore." Something in him couldn't resist chuckling at that. "Weird, isn't it, how our lives just keep intersecting, yours and mine and Mulder's? Kinda gives you a healthy respect for the whims of fate."

"Fate had nothing to do with what happened this afternoon."

"Let me guess -- is this the part where you tell me it's gonna sting a little?"

"He put a gun to his head today. There was no bullet in the chamber, but...I don't think he would've cared if there was."

"Oh, Jesus..." he gasped, words smashing into him like a concrete wall, headache pounding with renewed force.

"Every time he sees you he's torn apart. This has to stop, Alex, right here, right now. No more of yours and Mulder's lives intersecting. You get well, and you disappear -- for good this time."

He let his head hang down, vision clouding, swimming, blinking back the hot, stinging throb welling there. It was impossible, unthinkable, what she was asking--

But she was right. He had to do it. There was already too much blood on his hands; he wouldn't, couldn't let himself be the cause of any more death, especially not Mulder's. It'd hurt like hell knowing he'd never see Mulder again, but his pain didn't matter. *He* didn't matter, not to himself or anyone else, not anymore...

"All right," he said, looking up, looking at her, "you win."

To his surprise, her expression gentled, the look in her eyes actually compassionate--

And then came the sound of the front door opening, shutting, the shuffle of footsteps moving through the kitchen, then the bedroom.

"It'll be a few days until you're well enough to travel," she said, smiling slightly. "Make the most of them."

                        * * *

It was a week before Mulder let himself breathe easy again.

A week before Scully pronounced Alex on the way to a full recovery. His wounds were healing nicely, with no apparent sign of infection. He didn't even need the painkiller anymore, except to sleep at night.

Scully'd come by twice a day, in the morning and evening, to check on Alex's progress and monitor his medication. She'd covered for Mulder at work as well, handing in his report on the Modell case, telling Skinner he'd decided to take some long-overdue vacation time.

A week...hovering between heaven and hell...

Seven days and seven nights...

Seven nights of lying there beside him, caressing him, holding him while he slept--

Seven nights of persistent, painful arousal, with no immediate means of relieving the pressure -- other than ducking into the bathroom for a few minutes, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Alex for even that long--

And apparently the feeling was reciprocated, for the spark flashing in Alex's eyes the second Scully was out the door would've lit up a half-dozen city blocks--

The next thing he knew, they were standing in the kitchen together, mouths melding, tasting, devouring--

Alex's lips moving, tongue darting out, tracing a moist, velvety path across Mulder's cheek, all the way over to his ear, laving, nipping at the lobe, tilting his head back, working his way down the slope of his throat with deliberate, maddening slowness--

And that was all it took to make his knees start dissolving to water. Pulling back reluctantly, he grabbed Alex's right hand, heading for the bedroom--

Pushing Alex down on the bed, impatient fingers tugging at his shirt, yanking it from the waistband of his jeans, up over his head--

"Jesus, Mulder, stop! You trying to twist my fucking arm off?"

And he stopped, rolling to his side, chest heaving, guilt ripping through him at the pained, stricken look on Alex's face. "Oh, God...oh, Jesus...I'm sorry, Alex...I didn't think..."

"S'okay, I'm okay--"

"No, it's not. I should've known better than to be so rough--"

"Mulder--"

"I hurt you. I never...want to do that again."

"I know," Alex replied softly, leaning over for a kiss, sweet and slow and endless. "Take it easy, okay? We've got all night. Let's make it last."

"Jesus, you make it sound like we're never--"

"Move over."

"Huh?"

"Just do it, Mulder."

He did, and Alex shifted, rolling onto his right side, snuggling close to him, arm draped over his midriff. "Nice," Mulder couldn't help murmuring, his own arm looping around Alex's shoulders, finally letting relaxation wash over him.

"Yeah, it is," Alex agreed, "so let's just enjoy it, lie here and talk for awhile, okay?"

"Talk?"

"Yeah, you know...that thing you do with your mouth."

"I can think of a couple other things I'd rather be doing with my mouth right now--"

"Mulder..."

"Okay, okay...can't blame me for trying, can you?" he laughed. Maybe Alex was right, he conceded; maybe what they needed now was quiet time, time to decompress. They really hadn't had any time alone together --at least not with both of them awake; the painkiller had kept Alex knocked out for most of the last few days. Eyes closing, he let himself drift, stray questions winding through his hazy mind, lighting finally on one he still had no answer for. "Um...why aren't you in Toronto?"

"Look in the right-hand pocket of my jacket."

"What?"

That made him lift his head slightly. "You didn't throw it out, did you?"

"It's in my closet. I cleaned off as much of the blood as I could, but I don't think you'll ever be able to wear it again--"

"You didn't find it?"

"Find what?"

"The digital tape. That's the reason I didn't get on the plane. I was just about to go through the metal detector at Dulles when I realized I still had it with me. Jesus, I hope it didn't fall out when I--"

He started to get up, but Mulder stilled him with a touch. "Stay here, I'll look."

It was in the pocket, right where Alex said it would be. Chuckling ruefully, he came back to sit on the edge of the bed, tossing the tape onto the bedside table. "Guess I left the hotel in such a hurry, I forgot it," he said softly.

"Yeah."

"You didn't have to bring it back. You could've put it in another locker, or in the mail--"

"No, I couldn't...leave things the way we left them. I wanted to see you again and I was afraid..." he stopped, swallowing hard, looking down at his hands, "I just figured you'd slam the door in my face otherwise."

Fresh ache thrummed inside him, singing all the keener for the truth underscoring Alex's words. "I'm sorry, Alex...sorry for everything..."

"S'okay. You had every right to feel the way you did."

"Jesus, how can you say that, after what I--"

"Look, I didn't exactly say no, did I? I wanted it as much as you did...and I still do."

"Alex..."

"Come on back to bed, Mulder. We've got a lot of lost time to make up for."

And he did, rolling on top of Alex as gently as he could, taking care not to touch or jostle his wounded arm, taking his own weight on his hands--

Dipping down to let their mouths touch, lips parting, tongues dueling, tasting sunshine and shadow and fever and a month spent hating himself so much he wanted to die and seven nights spent dreaming of this, dreaming with his eyes open--

Seven nights spent lying here with a hard-on so fucking stiff and raging he could pound nails with it, just like right now--

And he jerked away, breaking the kiss, gasping, blood hammering a tattoo in his head. God, no, he couldn't, it was too soon, Alex wasn't ready yet--

The sudden feel of fingertips trailing down his cheek, his throat were an agony almost too much to bear, hellish bliss, starting a growl rumbling deep in his chest--

"S'okay, Mulder...do it, I want you to--"

"No, this time's for you..."

"For you too. For *us.* C'mon, I don't want to wait..." And a slow roll of his hips told the truth, Alex's stiff shaft pushing upward, poking Mulder's belly, rubbing, teasing his own erection even through two layers of hot, heavy denim--

"H-how do you w-want to..?" he half-sobbed, an icy, invisible fist closing around his windpipe--

"Face to face. I want to see you..." Smiling, he reached up, tipping Mulder's head back to bestow the gentlest, sweetest chain of kisses along the underside of his jaw, and suddenly the fist unfurled, unclenched--

Mulder's jeans, t-shirt and boxers quickly became a small heap on the floor, and he'd just yanked condoms and lube from the bedside table when he realized Alex was still fumbling, one-handed, with his fly--

And he knocked Alex's hand aside, ripping the zipper open with one savage tug, skinning jeans and underwear down and off, eyeing Alex's t-shirt, then deciding to let him leave it on, not wanting to jerk or wrench his arm--

Grabbing the extra pillow, tucking it around and under Alex's arm, heart lurching at Alex's startled, grateful little half-grin--

He dove for the tube of lubricant next, squeezing a fat blob onto his fingers, hands sliding under Alex, lifting him, spreading him open, one tentative finger, then two, gently probing, dilating the tiny puckered winkhole there, gliding in all the way to the second knuckle--

God, he was a smooth, satiny furnace inside, muscles clenching, gripping his hand even as he pulled out, pushed back in with three fingers this time, keeping his rhythm steady and fluid, ignoring Alex's pleading gasps and yelps--

Glancing down, gaze sweeping the younger man, watching the subtle play of muscles beneath taut ivory skin, back arching like a cracked whip, head tossing, thrashing on the pillow, wispy black curls glued to his cheeks, his forehead, eyes glowing lambent jade under the sweep of half-lowered lashes--

And lower, resting finally on the slender, rosy arrow nestled in a springy thicket between Alex's thighs, pulsing in perfect time with his own hand's deep, insistent thrusts--

And he leaned down, going down, tongue wrapping around the weeping velvet tip, eagerly lapping at the milky essence pooled there, all salt and bitter musk and some new sweeter, darker flavor he couldn't quite place--

He wanted more, and he wanted it now. Flicking Alex a look, he plunged, taking a mouthful, slow and deep, giving him long, languid tongue-strokes, fingers penetrating his hot, sweet ass with renewed fervor, lips and hands working him in synchrony--

And Alex's fingers were suddenly buried in his own hair, seizing a rough handful, trying to pull him off, push him away, but he held on, teeth dragging, scraping in warning as he slid down to the tip, running his tongue along the soft, delicate ridge, sucking hard--

"J-Jesus, Mulder...if you m-make me come before you get inside me, I swear I'm gonna fucking kill you..."

Mulder looked up at him, all mock innocence, half-grinning, still holding the tip of him between his lips, licking at it like a kid savoring an ice cream cone on a hot day in August, smug triumph jetting through him at the sight of Alex falling back on his pillow, chest heaving, sweat-sheened from the scalp down, surrendering to the moment, to him--

That was all he'd been waiting for. Scrambling to his knees, ripping open the condom box, he rolled one on so fast he was sure it'd leave skid marks, hands lifting Alex once more, holding him in place while he found where he was supposed to be, pressing forward--

And he went in all the way on his first lunge, blistering heat enveloping him like a kiss, rainbows flaming behind his eyes, colors colliding, molten ribbons tightening, twisting around him, slicing, flaying him to the bone--

He wasn't going to last, he knew that in the next second, eyes flying open, meeting Alex's, radiant, emerald-deep--

Deep as the abyss he was hurtling into, falling, drowning, coming apart, only dimly aware of Alex's matching cries, and the silky warmth spurting between their bellies--

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but the only illumination he could see through the curtains came from the streetlights. Alex was still asleep, lying on his back with only the sheet covering him, snoring softly, lips parted, wearing the same innocent, angelic expression Mulder remembered from two years ago, their first morning waking up together. Waking up together in this bed...

Leaning over, he brushed Alex's sweet, moist mouth with his own, smiling when he didn't even stir; it was the first time he'd slept so soundly without the help of drugs in a week.

He lay there a long time, staring at the ceiling, strangely restless, debating whether to wake Alex, try and coax him into another round, finally deciding against it. He needed to rest, recover. Tomorrow morning would be here soon enough, another morning waking up together...

Getting up, he snagged his clothes off the floor, tugging them on, padding barefoot into the living room, sitting down on the couch, grabbing the phone, dialing.

"H'lo?" came a distinctly groggy voice.

"Scully, it's me. Were you asleep?"

"Mulder?" A slight pause, the sound of a lamp flicking on. "What's wrong? Is Alex okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine, everything's fine. Look, I didn't realize I'd be waking you up. We can talk tomorrow--"

"Mulder, no, don't hang up. I'm awake now, so we might as well..."

Silence.

"You still there?" she prompted.

"Yeah, um...I just wanted to say thanks. For everything."

"You're welcome," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Was there anything else?"

"You trying to get rid of me, Scully?"

"Mulder, it's two-twenty in the morning, and I have to go to work tomorrow -- unlike some of us," she added pointedly.

"You haven't filed that transfer request yet...have you?"

"No. No, I haven't. Did you still want me to?"

"Only if you want to."

"I never wanted to, Mulder. You know that."

Another silence.

"So I, um...guess I'll see you at work in a couple days?" he said.

"Mulder..."

"What?"

"Go back to bed before Alex wakes up wondering where you are."

"Okay...g'night."

"G'night."

Grinning, he hung up and headed for the bedroom.

                    
\-- END --


End file.
